The Law of Unintended Consequences
by celticmusebooks
Summary: In the aftermath of V'ger Spock reaches for Christine Chapel, but cultural expectations and misperceptions bring painful consequences. Some angst some romance some humor with the TOS gang Rated R for sexual situations and language
1. Chapter 1

"Dr Chapel," The Vulcan loomed above her, his stiff aristocratic bearing and precisely measured speech she felt certain had been affected to intimidate her. "Although the placement of the organ in question may differ from your own, I can assure you it is present and in perfect working order. Additionally, as a physician you should be aware that my body temperature is in fact several degrees warmer than your own.

"As for the aspersions you would cast upon status of my parent's marriage at the time of my birth, it is a well documented matter of Federation record that they were formally bonded in the Vulcan tradition and married in a Terran ceremony as well."

Christine Chapel sprang from her desk chair, a restive lioness ready to defend her territory against the unwelcome interloper. Spock responded swiftly and purposefully, placing himself between the dark haired doctor and the door. He crossed his arms over his chest, mirroring the angry woman's defiant stance.

"Just sign the damn transfer request and get out of my office!" Christine shouted as she thrust the padd at him.

"I do not appreciate your tone, Lieutenant." He returned sternly, ignoring the proffered padd. "I understand that you are upset, but I will not allow this sort of insubordinate behavior."

"Upset?" She dropped the padd on the desk and turned away from him. "Upset? Oh I'm light years beyond upset! I'm angry and I'm hurt, and sad, and disappointed, and my heart is broken in a million pieces. Not that any of my… human 'feelings' mean anything to you!"

She turned back to face him. He had expected the anger in her eyes, but there was something else there, something more subtle, that he slowly came to recognize as desperation. "I've got to get off of this ship. I'll never have any sort of a life if I stay here. Can't you see that?"

"You are being illogical Doctor."

"Arghhhhh! Logic! Do you have any idea how sick to death I am of you and your 'logic'?" Unable to contain her frustration Christine seized the padd and threw it down on the desk. "Take your damn Vulcan logic and get out of my office!"

"Your tone…"

"If you don't like my tone Commander then get the hell out of my office!"

"We need to settle this Christine."

"There is nothing for us to settle, and don't you ever call me Christine."

"It is your name."

"Not to you… you son of a …"

"Lieutenant, your tone…"

"Fuck you! Oh wait, I already did didn't I? That's how I got into this damn mess in the first place. You want to put me on report for my tone buddy? Go right ahead, but when you write it up don't forget to include the part where you've been screwing a junior officer in your chain of command for the past five weeks. I wouldn't mind being a fly on the wall when ol' Jimbo reads that."

Spock sighed, leaning back against the wall. "There is no need for crude language; I have no intention of placing you on report Chris…Lieutenant. I am aware…" He paused for a moment and studied her pale features noting the dark circles under her eyes, "I am aware that my actions have caused you a certain degree of distress. I do not know how to ameliorate that. What do you wish for me to do?"

"Have you heard a single word I've said? Sign! The! Transfer!"

"It is not as simple as you would make it appear. I am the First Officer of this vessel; as such I must consider the best interests of the ship before any other concerns."

"Commander…" she choked back a sob, then her voice softened. "Spock… if I meant anything to you…anything at all, please… let me go."

"I shall take your request under advisement Doctor and inform you at such time as I have come to a decision." He nodded tightly then picked up the padd, his face once again the rigid Vulcan mask she knew so well and walked out of the door.


	2. Chapter 2

It was not quite oh three hundred hours ship's time when Christine Chapel found herself wandering the deserted corridors of the Enterprise. The dimmed nocturnal lighting, designed to maintain humanoid biorhythms, served to exacerbate the bleak feelings of restlessness and isolation that had been plaguing her the past four days.

She paused at the door of one of the small private observation lounges that was reserved for senior officers and brushed her fingers along the touchpanel. The polished durasteel doors parted silently bidding her to enter.

It had been the same sort of unsettling feelings driving her that night nearly six weeks ago. Sleep had eluded her in the aftermath of their encounter with the entity calling itself V'ger. Her emotions had been volatile, a potent mixture of the adrenaline rush of their near death at the hands of the rogue probe, and her grief at the deaths of her friends Will Decker and Ilia. Finding the empty observation room she'd ducked in for a few moments of solitude hoping to center herself and calm her turbulent thoughts. She struggled to hold back the building swell of tears as her mind returned to that fateful night.

….

"Space the Final Frontier_…_" she sighed. The boldly captioned StarFleet recruiting posters certainly had that part right. Christine pressed herself against the cool transparent aluminum, marveling at the panoramic vista of sparkling stars, a vast expanse of infinite universes beckoning with infinite possibilities. But the posters conveniently neglected to mention that there were unthinkable dangers lurking among those bewitching possibilities.

Perhaps_"See Space and Die,"_ might be more accurate? She mused, a wry smiled spreading across her lips as she considered the psych profiles of the candidates such a cynical recruitment slogan would surely attract.

She sensed the Vulcan's presence in the doorway a moment before the silky baritone voice that haunted her dreams broke into her reverie.

"Doctor Chapel?'

"Commander." Chapel brushed the trace of a tear from her cheek and steeled herself to face him. She turned stiffly, her bearing tight, Fleet regulation, a subordinate attending a superior officer. "I was just leaving, sir."

"At ease Doctor," he responded softly, a trace of amusement in his dark eyes. "I was hoping I might join you."

"Join me?"

"I too am feeling unsettled by recent events."

"I'm probably not the best company right now; I'm…having some difficulty controlling my emotions."

He turned his dark eyes to the overstuffed navy blue couch that dominated the small, tastefully appointed room raising a questioning eyebrow. At her nod of assent he dropped himself onto the sofa.

"They were your friends, it is logical that you should experience grief for their loss."

"What do you think has become of them?"

"Unknown. Something…something beyond our understanding."

"Something beyond Vulcan understanding?" She smiled as she settled herself next to him on the couch. "I find that hard to believe Commander."

"Even Vulcan understanding has its limits Christine."

"_Christine,"_her name on his lips, soft like a kiss, stirred the old memories, memories of a love, the pain of hopeless love. Suddenly uncomfortable at his nearness she rose from the couch and returned to the view port.

"I thought…"she swallowed hard and took a deep breath before turning to face him again, feigning a serenity that she'd never been able to master in his presence. "I thought I would never see you again."

"I too believed I would never see you again Christine."

"I would imagine that belief was a great source of relief to you, Commander."

"I do not believe relief is the label I would attach to my feelings on that particular matter."

"Feelings?" She laughed bitterly, "You left Starfleet without a word to any of us, like we didn't matter at all to you!" She tensed, embarrassed at the cold sound of anger in her voice.

"Or perhaps mattered too much."

"I mattered… to you?"

"Yes, you mattered to me Christine."

"So then why you go running of to Gol to get a refill of Super Vulcan?"

"The decision seemed logical at the time."

"At the time…but now?"

"I am able to see now that the decision to pursue the _Kohlinar_ was flawed. In denying that within me that is human, I turned my back on the principles of the IDIC."

"Infinite diversity in infinite combination."

He nodded tightly. "To truly apply the principle one must accept the diversity within self. I have failed to address and reconcile the dichotomy presented by my Vulcan and human nature. I am Vulcan and I am human. I cannot say that I truly understand what that means for me, but I know now that both halves of my nature have value. It is logical that I seek a balance between the two."

"So you are back with us?"

"It would appear so."

She stared back out at panorama of myriad universes. "I'm glad you're back." Her voice was but a whisper, almost too quiet even for Vulcan hearing

"I had hoped that would be the case."

A moment later she felt his breath, hot against the back of her neck and the length of his lean body pressed hungrily against her.

"Computer, engage privacy lock."

She spun around to find his lips centimeters from her own. It was like every hokey love song ever written. It was sweet, soft, electrifying. The touch of his lips, warmer than her own, his probing tongue ever so slightly rougher than a human male. His scent was arousing, a spicy musk, decidedly masculine she inhaled it deeply.

Fingers, long, slender, agile, were deftly working the fastenings of her tunic. A sudden, but gentle presence was moving through her thoughts.

"Vulcans are touch telepaths Christine; surely you are aware of that?" He'd finished unfastening the tunic and was smoothly easing it down her shoulders.

"A mind meld?"

"No," he responded as he turned his attention to the fastenings on her uniform pants. "But I can sense your feelings, surface thoughts." His hand slipped up under her camisole and she sighed softly, before her own hands took off on a journey of discoveries. She raked her fingernails over his taut backside and she felt his breathing become more labored, then she worked her way slowly around to the fastening of his trousers.

She felt more than heard the tearing of her silky undershirt before it slid down her body to join her tunic on the carpeted decking.

"The bra has hooks in the back." He nodded his understanding and in a few moments she felt his soft lips on her breasts and his hands sliding sensuously down her abdomen to the waistband of her panties.

His facile fingers elicited a gasp of pleasure from her which unexpectedly became a startled gasp as her own fingers slid down inside of his pants and found his already fully erect penis.

"Will that be a problem Christine?" There was the faintest trace of amusement in his normally somber voice.

"No, quite the contrary," she responded breathily. "I had no idea Vulcan males were so…well endowed." Her lacy panties joined her pants pooled around her ankles. She was glad that in the interest of comfort she'd removed her boots earlier making the task of stepping out of her garments quite easy.

His fingers moved slowly probing her sex, tentatively at first but gradually gaining confidence with each of her pleasured moans. Then he grasped her buttocks and hoisted her up against the viewport. Understanding his intent, Christine wrapped one arm around his neck and her long legs around his slender hips. Using her free hand she guided his throbbing penis into position.

"Are you…ready Christine?"

"I've been ready for the past five years."

"Then it would be most illogical to delay any longer." With one hard thrust he was within her moving slowly at first, but steadily increasing the rhythm, they were no longer two individuals, but one being united in one ancient intention. Christine felt a warm glow building within her, coupled with flashes of his sensations and fragments of his thoughts, sweet and surprisingly tender thoughts. His dark eyes burned with a passion she would have never dreamed possible.

She felt the trembling of his body as the first wave of orgasm claimed them. Somehow they'd ended up in a tangle of limbs on the floor. They'd laughed, and talked and touched and made love again, and then again.

…

It had all been so perfect that night and all of the long sweet nights that had followed. It had seemed then as if all of her dreams had come true. But it had been an illusion. Christine reached out and touched the transparent aluminum of the viewport. Three quarters of an inch was all that separated her from the cold vacuum of space on the other side. It was a perfect analogy for the gelid emptiness she was barricading within herself.

"Excuse me."

Christine turned around to see the backlit figure of a man in the doorway.

"I'm sorry Dr. Chapel," he continued, "I didn't realize anyone was in here."

"Lt. Hanson," she took a moment to compose herself. "I was just leaving."

"Are you all right ma'am?"

"I'm fine Lieutenant, thanks… just pondering the mysteries of the universe. It's good to see you again; there aren't many of us from the last tour on this crew."

"It's Eric, and good to be serving with you again as well ma'am."

"Please, call me Christine." She remembered Eric Hanson well from the first tour. He was a bright and resourceful young man who'd quickly moved up the ranks in Engineering. "I'm back on shift in a few hours I need to get moving. Goodnight Eric."

"Goodnight Christine."


	3. Chapter 3

"You're doing it again Lieutenant." James Kirk grinned as he addressed his Chief Communications Officer.

"Sorry sir," the dark skinned beauty demurred, treating the Captain to a flash of her dazzling smile. "I don't even realize I'm doing it."

"Indeed. Mr. Spock, humming on the bridge…surely there's some Starfleet regulation forbidding such activity."

The Vulcan looked up from the viewer with the faintest trace of a puzzled frown. "I am unaware of such a regulation Admiral."

The bridge crew dissolved into a fit of laughter and Spock realized that Kirk was apparently making some sort of joke. The need to turn nearly every situation into an opportunity for humor was one of the more daunting aspects of living among humans, and he'd learned to accept his role as de facto straight man with a begrudging grace.

"Could your musical mood have anything to do with our upcoming shore leave Miss Uhura?"

"I believe it might sir," she responded, her dark eyes sparkling.

Shore leave, the Vulcan mused grimly. In three days the Enterprise would put in at Earth Spacedock to address some issues with the Warp coils, as well as some other minor problems that had come to light during the six week shakedown cruise. While the ship was being retooled, entire crew was being granted seventy two hours leave at Vista Angeles. The rustic resort and nature preserve was normally reserved exclusively for entertaining Federation dignitaries and the upper echelon Fleet officers. Given that if not for the crew of the Enterprise Vista Angeles would nothing more than a vaporous haze of subatomic particles, gesture seemed appropriate.

Spock's natural inclination would have been to remain onboard the Enterprise and assist with the diagnostics and upgrades, but the idea of spending three days with Christine Chapel alone under the stars had held an irresistible appeal-at least it had until four days ago. Even now the thought of her lush body wrapped around him, her soft wet mouth, trailing hungry kisses down his body sent of surge of fire burning through him. _Kroykah!_

"Isn't that right Mr. Spock?"

The Vulcan was suddenly aware that the Admiral and Lt. Commander Uhura had been including him in their conversation. Rather than confess to his un-Vulcanlike preoccupation he simply responded "Afirmative" to the Admiral's inquiry and hoped that he hadn't agreed to anything that would come back to haunt him later.

"See even our resident Vulcan is looking forward to three days of rest and recreation."

"Indeed." It was illogical to protest, there was no way out of it now he would simply have to make the best of it. He did enjoy Kirk's company; however the idea of spending three days dodging Dr. McCoy's prying was a considerably less pleasant prospect.


	4. Chapter 4

Christine surveyed the choices on the dinner buffet in the Officer's Mess. Despite the fact the Chef had prepared a number of her favorites, nothing seemed appetizing. Be that as it may, she had to eat something. It was going on four days since she'd swiped her meal chip, and if she missed another meal the PerScan system would flag her to Medical for investigation. If her present circumstances seemed unbearable, she could only imagine what new level of hell would be achieved by adding a thorough grilling from Leonard McCoy to the mix.

The small dining room was buzzing with the excited chatter of young officers making plans for the upcoming leave. Four short days ago she'd shared in their sense of joyful anticipation. The excursion to Vista Angeles was to have been their "coming out" to their crewmates. No more sneaking around fearful of being caught together, no more slipping back to their respective cabins every night. Well they wouldn't have to worry about that anymore she mused, cringing at the bitter irony. Now her fears centered on walking into the mess and seeing him there or lying alone in her empty bunk surrounding by the memories of the nights of intense passion they'd shared.

She had to find a way get off of this ship, she decided as she finally settled on a plate of grilled root vegetables and a cup of coffee. Her feeble attempt to blackmail Spock into signing off on the transfer had been a desperate bluff. The sex had been consensual, and the scandal would only serve to destroy both of their careers. The idea of simply not returning from leave had already crossed her mind, but the prospect of two years in a Fleet detention facility made that a less that attractive plan of action.

For a moment she saw her reflection in the highly polished durasteel of the coffee server. _You look like hell__on a__popsicle stick_, she chided herself. It had been days since she'd been able to actually sleep and it was only copious amounts of Leonard's strong black coffee keeping her on her feet.

"I didn't know you were a vegetarian Christine?" She looked up to see a smiling face reflected in the surface of the coffee server.

Christine spun around to find Lt. Eric Hanson standing behind her, an empty tray in his hands. His green eyes were warm, and Christine instinctively found herself returning his open affable smile.

"I'm not." A trace of a frown crossed her lips and she returned the plate filed with orange and purple grilled tubers to the counter with a decisive thud. With a gentle wave she caught the Chef's attention. "I'd like a cheeseburger…no wait a double cheeseburger…with bacon."

"Make that two," Hanson added with a soft chuckle, "And a big chocolate milkshake." He gave Christine another smile before adding, "With two straws."

"Are you asking me to have dinner with you Lieutenant?" Christine laughed, and realized that for the first time in four days she felt human.

"I believe I am Doctor."

Eric Hanson logged into his post and began the reports that the Fleet Engineers requisitioned for the scheduled refits. He was by nature, a social person who normally disliked the solitary duty of Gamma shift supervisor, but tonight he was quite happy to be alone with his thoughts. The dinner with Christine had been like a dream come true. He'd been attracted to her from the first time he'd seen her in sickbay six years ago; although he had never managed to get her to notice him, at least not the way he would have liked.

Ship's gossip said she was engaged to some famous scientist who'd gone missing on a deep space mission. She'd taken the billet on the Enterprise in an effort to find him. Some of his crewmates found it quaint and almost childishly romantic, but he'd seen it a sign of character and he'd found his admiration for the beautiful young nurse growing.

Something had happened down on Exo III, though the nature of the exact series of events had all been kept extremely hush hush. Whatever had actually occurred, the report stated simply that they'd found her fiancé dead on Exo III. Everyone was certain that there was more to the story, but Kirk had made it clear that any further discussion or speculation on the matter would not be tolerated.

It was then the grapevine placed Christine Chapel's interests in the First Officer's court, though from what Eric had seen the humorless Vulcan never seemed to give the blond beauty, or any woman on board for that matter, the time of day.

Unlike humans, Vulcans were extremely secretive about their sexual practices giving rise to myiad rumors and speculation. Hanson remembered the whispered nuendo and crude jokes during his time in the Academy. Among other things it was said that Vulcan males engaged in sex only once every seven years. Eric had found the stories hard to believe, although it would certainly explain a lot about the Esterprise's tight-assed Vulcan First Officer. _I__guess__wouldn't smile either if I only got laid every seven years. _

After the first mission ended and the crew went their separate ways, Eric had been certain he'd never see Christine Chapel again. But it seemed the fates were giving him a second chance. She'd returned to the ship, with a newly minted medical degree and an air of self confidence which seemed to make her even more attractive. Their shared meal tonight had been convivial, each telling humorous stories about their lives in the Fleet. Their backgrounds and interests were surprisingly similar and when he'd causally mentioned meeting up during leave she'd seemed enthusiastic about the prospect.

The harsh beeping of the diagnostic sensors brought him back to the task at hand. He allowed himself one final thought about Christine Chapel and returned to his duties.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Spock slumped back in defeat, a string of preReform Vulcan oaths slicing through the silence of the darkened cabin as he vented his frustration at yet another aborted attempt at meditation. As he rose from the floor his thoughts again returned to his unsettling confrontation with Christine Chapel. How could he make her understand when she refused to listen to him, to allow him the chance to explain? He had never intended to hurt her, but neither had he mislead her as to the nature of their relationship. He did care for her, but what she wanted from him was not possible. He had obligations, and responsibilities that had to be met despite his personal feelings.

The encounter with V'ger had crumbled a lifetime of carefully constructed walls and stripped him of his artifice and pretenses. It had forced him to take a hard look at his life, to acknowledge his humanity. Not just to acknowledge it, but to find value in the duality of his nature, to cherish that which he had sought to eradicate on the burning sands of Gol.

Opening himself to his human side had been terrifying, yet at the same time gloriously liberating. The touching and exploring of each emotion, the intense colors and textures like pieces of a puzzle, he analyzed them and found a place within his katra for each one.

Some were so simple, like the friendship he felt for Jim Kirk, his loyalty to the Federation, others were deeper and far more complex such as the long denied attraction to Christine Chapel. He'd felt more centered, more alive in the past few weeks than he would have believed possible.

Nothing could have had prepared him for that first night when he followed Christine Chapel to the observation lounge. He had not believed himself capable of such deep, overriding desire, and had initially discarded the emotion out of hand, mistakenly identifying at first it as simple lust. But as he looked deeper he realized that lust was desire for any woman, but he did not desire any woman, his desire had been fixed solely on Christine.

The soft tangle of her thoughts and feelings as they brushed against his own, it had been most unexpected, but so very pleasurable. He had taken her against a wall of stars, it had been glorious, like making love to the heavens. Her scent, her touch, had been electrifying and each joining of their bodies served only to make him desire more of her, and she had, so very obligingly, denied him nothing.

He recalled the puzzling sense of loss that greeted him the next morning, when he had awakened his cabin amid the tangled sheets, thinking the night before had been merely a vivid dream.

….

"Christine?" He had sat up abruptly and found himself alone in the bunk of the temporary quarters he'd been assigned.

For a moment he had thought it had all been a dream, but the soft musky scent of her on the bedclothes triggered the memory of their hasty trip back to his quarters. They had made love yet again before drifting off to sleep.

But she was gone now. _Disappointment__?_ Yes, he christened the strange new feeling, he felt disappointed to awaken and find her gone. He could not deny the feeling of being slighted that she would leave his bed without a parting word. _Illogical_. She was expected in Sickbay at oh six hundred hours; she had surely meant no offense by taking leave of him. Yet in the back of his mind there was a lingering uncertainty.

Was it possible that among humans her hasty departure held some particular meaning? Perhaps she was unsatisfied by the joining; or felt regret? It was quite perplexing. He was most assuredly in need of meditation. He rose from the bed dismayed at the sterile environment of his new quarters. Jim had apologized effusively for installing him the small, impersonal guest cabin. It was certainly not conducive to meditation, and he had not had the forethought to bring his asenoi, or for that matter any of his personal belongings along with him. He would need to send a comm to his father later and have his things removed from storage and sent to him.

He would assume Sonak's quarters after they packed up the late Science Officer's personal effects for shipment to his family. He felt a wave of sorrow at the tragic death of the young officer, a man Spock himself had personally recruited from the Vulcan Science Academy.

Sonak had left behind a bondmate and a young son. The child would be a great source of comfort to Sonak's family. The continuation of the bloodlines was each Vulcan's most sacred responsibility to his Clan. Spock instinctively bowed his head and recited an ancient incantation to the ancestors to welcome the _katra_ of the fallen one and to grant guidance and wisdom to the young child.

He checked the chrono on the small bedside table. In less than one standard hour he was scheduled for a full physical to certify him fit to return to duty. He could only imagine Dr. McCoy's fiendish glee at poking and prodding him for a few hours. He experienced a warm feeling, which he quickly identified as affection. He has missed the crotchety doctor, more than he would have thought possible.

He stripped and remade the bed with fresh linen. As First Officer, he was entitled to have a yeoman perform such domestic tasks, but the quite obvious evidence of his early morning sexual encounter on the bed sheets would be fodder for the renowned Enterprise gossip mill before the midday meal. After a quick sonic shower and a fresh uniform and he was heading toward the turbo lift for Sickbay.

"Gods of every universe!" Christine Chapel jumped back from the biobed colliding with the Vulcan First Officer standing behind her. Spock held her for a moment, making certain she was steady on her feet, before reluctantly releasing her. He had expected, and indeed had hoped for, a brief sense of her emotions, something to give him a suggestion of where he stood with her; but in fact he felt no trace of thought or emotion.

The brief feeling of anxiety dissipated as he caught the trace of self satisfaction in her smile.

"You are shielding?"

She nodded softly and was about to speak when McCoy came barreling through the ward.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine, I just got another electrical shock. I think there's a short circuit in this biobed."

"Does anything in this bucket of bolts actually work?" McCoy grumbled furiously.

"What's wrong now Len?"

"The biostasis fields are still offline, the blood replicators can't seem to produce any white cells and the new head nurse just commed her notice to StarFleet."

"Ames quit? What time did she comm notice?"

McCoy checked the padd he was carrying. "Seven hundred forty five hours, what difference does that make?"

"Geoff!" She called out, ignoring the puzzled frown on her superior's face. "Ames commed her notice to Fleet at seven forty five hours; who had the seven hundreds?"

"Dr. Geoff M'Benga poked his head through the ward door. "Admiral Kirk."

"Big surpise there," Chapel laughed, "the man doesn't know how to lose."

"You all are betting on how long I could keep a head nurse? Of all the …" McCoy's eyes narrowed and focused on Spock, "What in blue blazes are you doing down here? "

"I believe I am scheduled for a physical examination so that I may be certified to return to duty."

McCoy held up two fingers. "How many fingers do you see?"

"Ten."

"Ten?"

"Yes doctor. I see two fingers extended and your remaining eight fingers which are not extended."

"Smart ass, consider yourself conditionally recertified."

"Conditionally Doctor?"

"Yeah, I'm recertifyin' you on the condition that you get in there and get my biostasis fields back online."

"A most welcome alternative to being poked and prodded with your shrunken heads and magic amulets doctor, I accept your proposition."

"Chapel, show him the equipment."

"If you'll follow me Commander?"

Christine led him through the ward and back to the computer station that controlled the surgical and isolation ward biostasis fields.

"When I awoke you were gone."

"I had early shift."

"I was…concerned…"

"Concerned?"

"Your…your feelings…about…last night…I was concerned that you might have regrets."

Her long, slender body suddenly tensed, her eyes narrowed warily and her arms reflexively crossed her chest, as she took a half step back away from him.

"Do you have regrets?"

"I regret only that my inexperience, my clumsy attempts to… I hope that it was not a disappointment Christine."

The tension was gone from her stance, and her lips curled into a shy smile. "It was not a disappointment. How could you think that? It was…it was wonderful."

"Then you would wish… to…engage…again?"

"I would wish that very much."

He had leaned forward to seal their agreement with a kiss, but McCoy had been out in the ward yelling for Christine.

They had engaged again that night, and all of the following nights. At least until the landing party to Azcus AC.

Perhaps it was his fault. He had plunged into the relationship without any real understanding of what a human female might want or expect from him, or communicating any of his own expectations of such a relationship to her. He had expected her to understand the necessarily ephemeral nature of such a relationship outside of the Tradition, despite the fact that she was not Vulcan. He had simply assumed the temporal vagaries he'd observed in human sexual relationships, the casual affairs, the term marriages, were her assumptions as well.

It had all come crashing down on them in a sunny glade on a small M class planet. What Jim Kirk often referred to as the Law of Unintended Consequences. It was like tossing a pebble into a lake, the ripples fanning out, the pattern changing with the variables within the lake, impossible to predict. In his orgy of emotional excess he'd tossed a pebble into the lake without considering what private spaces the ripples might invade, he had failed to calculate the consequences to Christine and himself.

The only logical choice was to grant her request and allow her to transfer from the Enterprise. She was correct, he owed her that. Yet somehow he couldn't bring himself to sign off on the request. Even though he understood continuing the relationship between them was impossible, he didn't want to let her go. The thoughts of their last night together in her quarters, their bodies moving as one rolled over his consciousness in a carnal tsunami.

It seemed his body understood neither obligations nor responsibilities. With a growl of frustration he peeled off his meditation robe and headed into the fresher for another in a long series of cold showers.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Christine stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in her favorite fluffy pink bathrobe. After programming some soft music she poured a small glass of the Saurian Brandy Leonard had given her on her last birthday and curled up on the sofa. The dinner with Eric Hanson had been just the thing to lift her out of the mire of hurt and anger she'd been working through the past few days. It had felt wonderful just talking and laughing; a timely reminder that there was indeed life after Spock. She'd made it through losing Roger and somehow she would make it through this as well.

She wrapped the coverlet on her couch around herself and rifled through the stack of padds on the end table. "_Romance novels? Seriously Christine, when are you going to grow up?_ "The coverlet had the subtle fragrance of exotic spices and musk, the visceral masculine scent of a Vulcan male. She hugged the softly woven fabric tightly around herself and inhaled deeply. That last night they'd made love on this couch.

"_No",_ she corrected herself tartly. "_Sex we had sex on this couch, mindless, meaningless sex. Vulcans don't love, at least they don't love human women, no matter how much they enjoyed screwing them."_

She jumped up angrily from the couch, grabbing the coverlet and tossing it into the recycler where it was promptly joined by her stack of romance novels. She checked her comms, hoping against hope that he'd found it in his heart to grant her the transfer but there was nothing from him.

If her plans were hinging on Spock having a heart, she'd be spending the rest of her life in this Warp driven purgatory. There was a comm from Nyota enquiring about her plans for the upcoming liberty. Between her new duties as ACMO, her research in the biolabs and her relationship with Spock, she'd had little time for socializing with her friends. Jan of course was busy with her new responsiblites as Transporter Chief and of course Hikaru. Ny was "between men" with plenty of free time, and Christine sensed that her friend was growing suspicious of the endless string of excuses she given her as to why they couldn't get together.

Christine felt a sharp pang of disappointment with herself. She'd always disliked women who put aside their friends when a man came into their lives. She swore she'd never be "that woman", and yet outside of department head meetings and the odd lunch she hadn't spent any real time with the person she considered her best friend since before they'd left Spacedock six weeks ago.

"Whatever you've got planned I'm in Ny! I'm sorry I've let myself get so busy the past weeks. It will be like old times the two of us spending our shore leave together." She hit send, then took a deep breath and opened a new comm, opting for the less personal text rather than vid.

"Please don't make me beg? I can't stay here on this ship after what's happened. Surely even you can understand that"

She considered the last sentence for a moment, and then deleted the word "even". There was nothing to be gained by antagonizing him.

"I would like to apologize for the things I said to you yesterday. I know you never made any promises to me and I take full responsibility for my foolish human emotionalism. I've always admired the Vulcan saying "Live long and prosper". I truly wish that for you Spock. I hope you will find a proper Vulcan wife who can make you happy and give you a Vulcan son to carry on your family line. Can you not grant me the same chance to find a husband and family for myself? Please sign the transfer so we can both move on with our lives."

She stared at the screen for some time before hitting send.

Four days ago she'd thought all of her dreams had come true. She remembered with painful clarity awaking to find the warm body of her Vulcan lover wrapped possessively around her. They had really pulled out all of the stops the night before, and she remembered wondering at the time if there was any horizontal surface in her cabin where they hadn't made love in the past ten hours.

…. …..

She'd captured the wandering hand that was sliding purposefully down the soft curve of her abdomen

"We've got a long day ahead of us Commander; shouldn't we conserve our energy for the landing party?"

"I assure you doctor, I have more than sufficient energy for both tasks."

"So I'm a task now?"

"You are a most delightful task." He began a trail of soft kisses from the lobe of her ear down her neck then moving more slowly as he buried his face in the welcoming valley between her breasts.

"Well I guess if you insist?"

"I most assuredly insist."

She released his hand to its previous task as her own hands and lips found delightful tasks of their own.

She programmed a pot of coffee while he ducked into her fresher for a quick sonic shower. It was the first time they'd spent the whole night together and she felt a sudden wave of emotion at the deepening sense of intimacy that simple gesture had brought to the relationship. It had been more than a month since they'd become lovers and they'd both decided that there was no point in the continued secrecy. Neither of them was looking forward to the unavoidable fuss McCoy would most certainly make, but they were both tired of sneaking around like a couple of horny teenagers.

Starfleet's nebulously worded fraternization regulations discouraged, but didn't specifically forbid, sexual relationships between senior officers. Christine's position was in a grey area. Medical was under the Science Division and as such, technically in Spock's chain of command. But Medical was not considered a "line" department and as Assistant Chief Medical Officer she reported to McCoy who reported directly to Admiral Kirk. There would undoubted be some gossip, but it would blow over soon enough

She set out the coffee with a bowl of fruit and a box of _kreyla_ she'd been able to smuggle out of the Senior Officer's Mess last night. Their first breakfast together, the first of many she hoped. She sat down at the small table and took a long drink of strong black coffee. She searched her memory, but was unable to recall ever feeling this happy.

Two hours later Christine hoisted up her specimen cases and followed the team out of the shuttle into the early morning sunlight. Spock gave final instructions to the other ten members of the survey team; pairing them off as Christine handed out the nutripaks and precalibrated tricorders.

Azcus AC was a small uninhabited Minhsara class planet that the Federation thought held significant potential for colonization. Eight teams of twelve had been dispatched to the most humanoid friendly regions of the tiny planet. Each team was to run the standard panel, taking samples of water, and soil, monitoring natural radiation levels, and cataloging native insect and animal life as well as edible plant life. It was not a particularly intellectually stimulating project, but Christine was glad for the opportunity to spend a day in the fresh air and sunlight planetside.

Christine and Spock separated, working a diamond pattern along their assigned area. She was barely five hundred feet away when she was overcome with an overwhelming feeling of nausea and before she realized what was happening she'd regurgitated her recently consumed breakfast into a small copse of bushes.

She washed out her mouth with some water from her canteen, and pulled a medkit from her pack. She'd been exposed to Cartiain flu a few days before, and Chekov's piloting of the shuttlecraft had been a bit rocky. One of her new medtechs had needed to make use of the shuttle's airsickness bags. She peeled open a rehdyro stick and sucked on it while she attached the tiny thermopatch to the inside of her wrist. No fever, she noted with relief, ruling out Cartiain opened her small pharmpak and removed an anti nausea hydrospray. She was checking the label to compute the dosage when the panel of jelly bean hued warning icons caught her eye.

"No!" she'd gasped aloud, the hypospray slipping from her trembling hand. "It's not possible." She pulled out her personal data padd and booted up the calendar. Five days… her period was five days late. "_Calm down Chris, you've been late before it doesn't mean you're pregnant. But morning sickness?_" No, it wasn't possible. She was using an ovulation suppressant implant, there was no way she could be pregnant. She retrieved the hypospray from the ground and measured out ten ccs of Anause and pressed the hypospray against her thigh muscle.

"_But not that first night Christine…" s_he'd not been using any form of birth control that first night. She'd implanted the pea sized device the next day. Christine capped the unused hypospray and returned it to her pack. Her heart was racing. Could she actually be pregnant? She gnawed anxiously at her lower lip. The relationship with Spock was still so new, it was far too soon to add a baby to the mix.

She had no idea of how Spock would react. She knew little of Vulcan sexual mores, and was unsure of how a child born to unmarried parents would be accepted by Spock's family. Christine tried to imagine explaining to her own very conservative parents how their thirty two year daughter who had graduated at the top of her Med school class had somehow gotten herself knocked up without benefit of marriage.

Christine pulled out a strip of specimen containers. There was no point in speculating on something that might not even be happening, and the specimen containers certainly weren't going to fill themselves.

….

"Aghhhhh!" Christine pulled her thoughts back to the present. Dwelling on what happened that day wasn't going to change anything. She meant what she'd written to him in the comm.. There were no heroes or villains in this pathetic drama. Neither of them had done a very good job of communicating what they expected from the relationship. Even after her residency on Vulcan she had only a rudimentary understanding about the cultural and emotional expectations of Spock's people. Granted he was half human, but he'd been raised in a very traditional Vulcan culture that viewed emotionally based relationships as illogical.

"_If only_" she sighed_, "were there any more pathetic words in the English language? If only Will Decker hadn't talked her back onto the Enterprise…If only V'ger hadn't come out of nowhere and brought Spock back to them…If only she hadn't volunteered for the landing party to Azcus AC ?"_

"But he did, and it did and you did Christine!" she said with a soft sigh of resignation to the dark-haired stranger staring back from the mirror beside her dresser. At least now she knew the truth, the truth about him, and the truth about herself. That had to mean something didn't it?

It was just past twenty two hundred hours. She punched the code for Nyota's quarters into the comm, and was gratified to hear the Bantu woman's perky voice on the other end.

"Are you okay Chris?"

"I'm not sure Ny."

"Come on down honey, I'll crack open that bottle of Bordeaux I've been saving for a special occasion."

"Thanks Ny, I'll change and be down in ten minutes."

….

….


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Spock toweled himself dry then donned a pair of the silky drawstring pants he favored for sleeping. He briefly considered another attempt at meditation, but quickly discarded the idea. He found Sonak's quarters comfortable, though he still didn't consider them home quite yet. The cabin was considerably larger than his quarters on the original Enterprise, with environmental controls designed for Vulcan comfort. There was a meditation alcove built into a wall off of the main room, and to his great surprise a private fresher.

He loved the Admiral like a brother, but sharing a bathroom with him on the first five year mission had been daunting indeed. Apparently there had been no classes at the academy on returning damp towels to the towel bar, not to mention the times he'd arisen in the middle of the night to relieve himself to find yet another one in the seemingly endless parade of James Kirk's conquests availing herself of their facilities.

Jim certainly had, as Dr. McCoy had so colorfully expressed it, a "way with the ladies". Spock's own track record with the fair sex was far less noteworthy. He had come to Christine essentially a virgin, unsure of himself, afraid that his clumsy attempts to pleasure her would prove unsatisfying to a human female. But his fears had been groundless, and she had been most enthusiastic in her desire to continue the sexual relations.

At least she had been enthusiastic until five days ago. He remembered the lighthearted feelings he'd had as he packed up the last of his specimen cases and headed back to the shuttle. He felt pleasure in a job well done, and was looking forward to seeing Christine. He had expected to be the first one to reach the meeting point, but had been most pleasantly surprised to find Christine was already there, alone, seated cross legged in the tall grass, cataloguing the specimens in the small duraplast containers. The light of the afternoon sun danced through her dark brown curls and illuminated her pale pink skin and jewel like blue eyes. He'd felt a strange, inexplicable pleasure as he'd watched her working, and he felt the first stirrings of desire rising within him.

"_Mine_." The thought had startled him, and he had immediately set to identify this new emotion that washed over him. It was a potent mixture of longing, desire, and a need to possess her, a need that he found was more Vulcan than Terran. _Highly illogical_, he corrected himself and discarded the inappropriate emotion

"You are finished?" he called out as he moved into the sunny glade.

"Almost," she replied turning her attention back to her work. "I just have to label these last two plants."

"Have any of the team reported in?"

"Reynolds and Doughty had some problems with the background radiation readings and had to have some additional equipment beamed down. Hughes and Jones found some sort of mineral that exploded and blew up a quarter of a mountain when they scanned it, Scotty beamed down some protective gear for them and some armored containers so they can gather more samples."

She stowed the last of the specimens and he offered her a hand up. Spock instinctively braced for the flood of her thoughts and feelings that would accompany the contact and was puzzled to feel nothing from the contact.

"Your ability to shield is most impressive."

"It was required training for my residency at the Vulcan Science Academy."

"It is a skill few humans are able to master."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

He nodded confirming the compliment and they began stowing the containers in the small cargo bay of the shuttlepod.

Spock closed the cargo hold, and after scanning the area to be certain they were unobserved pulled Christine into a gentle embrace. His lips were seeking hers when they were interrupted by the faint whine of the communicator.

"Spock here."

"Scotty just called and told me that your return is to be delayed by four to six hours. I'm having Rand beam down some additional supplies, some nutripaks, water and some outerwear for after sundown."

"Prudent Sir."

"With planetside I would appreciate it if you could beam back to the ship as soon as your work there is completed."

"My task here is completed, I shall return to the ship immediately. Spock out. Lt. Rand."

"Rand here sir."

"Requesting beam out for myself and Dr. Chapel lock on these coordinates."

"No!" Spock turned to see Christine pulling away from him, panic in her sapphire eyes.

"Doctor?" he raised a puzzled eyebrow.

"Jan…don't…please I can't use the transporter."

"Really Christ…" Spock halted realizing that Rand could hear their conversation. He grasped Christine's forearm lightly. She was no longer shielding and the torrentian tangle of panic and fear nearly paralyzed him. "Dr. Chapel, you are obviously spending too much time with Dr. McCoy. The transporter is a very safe means of travel, your anxiety is most illogical, please hold your position for beam out."

"No! I can't…please just beam out without me."

"Lt Rand, please belay that order. I will contact you for beam out shortly. Spock out."

"What is wrong Christine?"

"Nothing." She backed away from him, her arms wrapped around herself as if suddenly chilled.

He held out the communicator as if to make another call. "If that is the case I shall have Lt Rand beam us back to the ship."

"No, please, I can't." She turned away from him choking back a sob.

"Why are you not able to use the transporter Christine." He placed his hands on her shoulders hoping to pick up some clue as to her uncharacteristic outburst but she was shielding again. "Please answer the question, do not force me to make it an order Christine?"

"I can't use the transporter…because…" she sighed deeply then turned to meet his gaze, "I think I'm pregnant".

….


	8. Chapter 8

"So he can actually, you know…I mean, everyone says that Vulcans can only…you know… once every seven years."

"For the last time Ny, yes he can 'you know' apparently anytime he wants. Now do you want to hear this story or not!"

Nyota refilled both of their glasses then settled back on the couch beside her friend. "Sorry Chris, so what happened next?"

"Well, I just sort of panicked and blurted out that I couldn't use the transporter because I thought I might be pregnant."

"So what did he say?"

"He asked me who the father was."

"You're kidding?"

"Oh wait, it gets worse. After I managed to pick my jaw up off the ground, I told him that since I hadn't had sex with anyone else since Roger left for Exo III I was assuming that it was him. Then he put on this annoyingly smug Vulcan stone face that made me just want to knee him in the balls and said 'How did this happen Christine?' "

"He didn't! You mean he didn't know how…"

"Oh he knows how, he just figured that I'd taken precautions, which I did."

"Then how…"

"Not the first time. Don't look at me like that. It's not like I knew he was going to have some freaking V'ger induced epiphany and… anyway, I did a quick pregnancy test the next morning and it was negative. I should have used a Vulcan test, but we only had two on board and I knew Len would notice one missing when he did the inventory. I gave myself an oviplant that afternoon."

"I don't understand Chris. Vulcans are so devoted to their families; Sonak told me that the continuation of the bloodlines is considered a Vulcan male's highest duty to his clan."

"Yes," Christine responded bitterly, "the bloodlines, the Vulcan bloodlines. Not some _qomi_ bastard child."

"He said that?"

"Not in so many words. He just kept repeating over and over that it was unacceptable, that we couldn't have a child together; like if he kept talking it would all just go away. Most of it didn't make that much sense to me, a bunch of crap about the Vulcan Tradition, and the duties to the Clan, but there was one part that came through loud and clear. He wants a traditional Vulcan wife, not me."

"Oh honey," Nyota reached over to Christine and took her hand. "But you're not pregnant?"

"No. I literally ran to the lab when the shuttle docked and did a Vulcan pregnancy test. It came back negative."

"That heartless, cold blooded, bastard!"

Christine gave her friend a bemused grin. "I believe he'd debate you on that one."

"Debate me?"

"Don't ask."

"Are you okay Chris?"

"I will be. It hurts, it hurts a lot. But I'll get through it. I just need to get off this ship."

"You've got a transfer?"

"Not exactly…all personnel matters have to go through the First Officer."

Uhura's eyes widened with understanding. "He won't let you transfer? You'd think he'd be delighted… oh sorry I didn't mean it like that Chris."

"Don't be sorry, I thought he'd be delighted too, but he's Vulcan so I should have known he wouldn't react normally. I'm not sure what I'm going to do. Blackmail didn't work."

"You tried to blackmail him?"

"Not exactly, it was a bluff but he didn't buy it." Christine held out her glass to Nyota for a refill. "When you bought this for a 'special' occasion I can't imagine this was what you had in mind."

"I imagined sharing it with a friend." She responded warmly. "Besides, how many times have you been there for me when my heart got broken?"

"I've lost count." Chapel laughed and Nyota grabbed several of the small pillows and pummeled her with them.

"So he really can…you know?"

"Why do you keep asking me that? Yes for the last time he can."

"So how was he?"

"What he lacked in experiential data he more than made of for in willingness to learn."

"So exactly how much "experiential data" did he have?"

"Basically none."

"He was a virgin? You seduced a virgin?"

"Yes he was a virgin, but I was hardly the one doing the seducing."

"Wow, just think, all of those years of holding it in, that's so darn hot. I want details girl. Did he, you know, know his way around."

"You really are incorrigible Ny."

"Did he?"

"Well he is a scientist," Christine smiled slyly, then took another sip of wine, "he made a very detailed survey of the terrain before sending out his probe."

"So you got 'probed' by an alien?" Nyota laughed. "

"I know it sounds crazy, but as long as I've wanted him, I never really thought about what it would be like to have sex with him. He was so tender, very… considerate. I've never felt so wanted, so desired. It was absolutely amazing."

"Not even with Roger?"

"It was different with Roger. I loved him, I truly did, but our relationship wasn't really based on sex. I'd known him since I was seven years old. It was more about respect, and admiration I think I was in love with the idea of being part of his work.

"But with Spock?"

"I'm not sure there are words to describe what it was like. Physically, it was amazing, but emotionally, I swear it felt like our souls were touching." Christine swallowed hard, and Nyota reached out and took her friend's hand.

"I think…" She shook her head and took another drink. "I think I just wanted it, wanted him for so long…I didn't question what was happening. I can't blame him. He never promised me anything."

"He's a fool to let you go."

"Not a fool Ny, just honest about who he is, and what he wants. His genetics might be human and Vulcan, but he was raised in Vulcan culture and tradition. The desire for a Vulcan wife and a son to carry on the bloodline of his clan has been ingrained in him his entire life. Maybe I needed for this to happen. Maybe now I can let the whole romantic dream go and move on with my life."

There was surprise in Nyota's dark eyes. "You still love him don't you?"

Christine shrugged, "It doesn't change anything. But one good thing came out of all of this. I've realized that I want a child."

"You want to have a baby?"

Christine nodded. "Even after I knew that Spock didn't want me, I still wanted the baby. I know… I know its crazy right? When the test came back negative I felt so...disappointed. It's something I've never even considered Ny. Roger wasn't interested in having children, so I guess I just shut that part of myself off.

"That's why I've got to get off the ship. As long as I'm here, as long as he's here, I'll just keep hoping; keep dreaming…until it's too late for me. I know you've got connections at Fleet Ny. If I was offered a position by the brass Spock would have to sign off on it."

"I can make some comms while we're on leave, and speaking of leave, I was able to book us one of the private campsites."

"I've never been camping."

"It's not just camping, they have restaurants and bars and dance clubs. It'll be just like old times, the two of us out on the town." Nyota refilled their wineglasses, then raised hers to Christine. "Here's to the two hottest babes on this ship, and a kick ass shore leave!"

"To shore leave."

….


	9. Chapter 9

Spock gazed out the viewport mesmerized by the infinite promise in the sparkling landscape of stars. Even as a small child he had had heard their sirens' song and understood that his future path lay somewhere among those distant lights. It had not always been an easy path, learning to live and work among humans had often proven challenging but he did not regret his choice to pursue a career in Starfleet.

His fingers brushed tenderly against the transparent aluminum, tracing a pathway through the stars, a lover's caress of the heavenly bodies on the other side. He trembled at the memory of making love to Christine here, the erotic epiphany he'd experienced moving within her, her luscious body pinioned against the starry night. He had never imagined such physical pleasure was possible, and he finally understood the priority that his human crewmates placed upon sexual activities.

He had not considered, as he feasted hungrily on the forbidden fruit, that this paradise would come at a price. It was like the colorful Terran painting in his mother's study, a shamefaced man and woman being driven from the Garden of Paradise by a noncorpereal being wielding a flaming sword. He had enjoyed hearing the ancient allegorical tale, though his mother had been at a loss to explain what infraction had caused the large red chicken to be expelled along with the man and woman.

In hindsight he had decided the painter wished to show that given an infinite set of variables in the known universe, it was impossible to mitigate the consequences of an action. In science it was referred to as the law of unintended consequences. In the laboratory it was possible to precisely control all factors and variables of a given experiment; however in the real world, even the most powerful computer was not capable of accounting for every possible permutation of factors influencing the outcome of a given situation. The chicken was simply an unintended victim of circumstance.

He had entered into a sexual relationship with Christine without ever really considering the long term implications for either of them. He had allowed emotion and physical desire to obscure his logic.

He thought back to their return to from Azcus AC. Her icy glare when he met the landing party at the shuttle dock, her curt instruction to him to take her sample cases to the biolabs. Her voice was uncharacteristically cold as she informed him she would run the necessary tests in sickbay and they could meet in her quarters at twenty hundred hours.

Those two hours as he waited to see her had seemed like an eternity, his mind teeming with the thoughts of telling his family, the humiliation of laying yet another scandal at the door of his Clan.

He had made the five minute walk to her quarters wrapped in a mantle of grim foreboding, as befit a condemned man walking the last mile to his death. Spock had faced death before, so many times now that he'd long ago lost count. But this was a different sort of death, not the physical death of his body but the death of his honor, the death his place within his Clan. A child, _ashu kan'nav, _conceived outside of the Pon Farr, outside of a proper bonding. It was unthinkable.

Anxiously he looked up and down the corridor outside of her door and when he was certain no one would observe him, he touched the chime on her door and it slid open. She stood blocking the doorway, her long slender arms crossed tightly across her chest, her sapphire eyes rimed with red. His heart, like a stone tossed into a pond sank into murky mire. Despair, this was yet another new shade from the paint box of emotions that V'ger had unleashed within him.

For a moment he wasn't certain that she was going to permit him to enter her cabin, however this was not a conversation he intended to have in a public corridor.

"May I come in?"

She nodded tightly stepping aside to allow him entry. They stood facing one another in excruciating silence, like ancient enemies preparing for an apocalyptic battle. He took a deep breath to center himself for the task at hand. However unpleasant he would face this head on. A fleeting moment of hope washed over him; it was possible that she would not wish to continue with the pregnancy. He felt his stomach wretch with distaste that he could entertain such a thought. He was Vulcan, the Tenants of Surak held that all life was sacred and his feeling of hope was replaced with a wave of shame and self recrimination.

Clasping his hands behind his back he drew himself up, shoulders back, his face a neutral emotionless mask and braced himself to meet his fate.

"You have run the appropriate tests?"

She stared down at the decking for a few moments, and then brought her eyes to meet his.

"The tests all came back negative."

"Negative, then you are not…"

"No, I'm not pregnant."

"Christine." He moved forward and took her in his arms. "I cannot tell you how relieved I am. We will need to be more cautious in the future."

He was startled to feel the sharp stab of her elbows against his chest, and it was only his superior Vulcan reflexes that allowed him to divert her bent knee from its intended trajectory.

"Don't you ever touch me you son of a..."

"Christine," the Vulcan protested as he stepped back his hands instinctively covering his genitals.

"Get out of my quarters, now!"

"I do not understand Christine?

"Did you actually think that we could just go back to what we had like this didn't happen?" Her eyes widened in horror at the dawning realization. "Gods of every universe, you did! You thought I'd go on fucking you until…until when? Your wedding day? When exactly were you planning to tell me?"

"Christine, there is no need for such vulgarity. I find this display most illogical."

"Logical? In case you haven't noticed human life isn't 'logical'. It's not some damn experiment in one of your bio labs. It's messy and it's emotional and pretty much unpredictable. Sometimes our actions and choices have consequences that we didn't foresee. But we accept responsibility and rise to those challenges; we stretch ourselves beyond who we think we are and what we have planned for ourselves."

"Christine…"

"Get out of my quarters!"

"Christine please…"

"I mean it. Get out of my quarters and out of my life. Go back to your perfectly ordered, perfectly logical Vulcan life. Go find yourself that perfect Vulcan wife and have that perfect Vulcan child and leave me alone. Don't ever touch me; don't ever speak to me again."

"I am your superior officer Christine; it is illogical to think that I would never speak to you again."

"Oh believe me I'm working on that."

"Working on what?"

"Getting myself off this damn ship."

"Christine… if you would calm down…"

"You have precisely ten seconds to get your ass out of my quarters before I call Security Commander."

"Lieutenant…"

"Six seconds." She moved over to the comm unit and punched in the code for Security, allowing her finger to hover over the send button.

"There is no need for a security team. I shall leave now and return when you are in a more rational state of mind."

That had been four days ago, he mused glumly and it seemed his further attempts to settle things between them had only served to make her more emotional and thus less rational.

"_She is hurting, your actions hurt her. It was not your intention but it was the outcome of your actions,"_ he told himself resolutely. It was a bitter truth but it must be faced. He had plunged into the world of human emotions like the proverbial bull in the china shop, not understanding where that path might lead him, or her. His behavior toward her had been childish and quite unacceptable. His thoughts had been only of the consequences to himself, and Sarek's disapproval, he had not stopped to considering her feelings.

He had wronged her, and the Tenets of Surak were clear on what he must do. The Laws of the Tradition demanded he make amends to her, restore the honor and dignity he had taken from her. There was no choice in the matter.

Sure now of his decision, he returned to his quarters. She would have the transfer she requested and a chance at a new life. He owed that to her, and he would honor that debt.

He sent a short comm simply requesting that she meet him in his quarters after the end of her shift. Then, exhausted, he stripped off his clothing and crawled into his bed.

….

….


	10. Chapter 10

"Attention all crew, this is Admiral Kirk speaking; we are precisely sixteen standard hours from Earth Spacedock. I've just been informed by Starfleet that we will have ideal weather conditions for our 72 hour shore leave. Your individual department chiefs will contact you with specific arrangements for transfer to the Spaceport and transport to Vista Angeles. Kirk out."

Kirk settled himself back into his chair and allowed his eyes to roam possessively over the bridge, "_his_" bridge. It was hard to believe that only six weeks ago he'd sitting behind a desk at Fleet bored out of his mind. With the ironically clear vision of hindsight it was obvious now he'd made terrible a mistake in accepting the position at Fleet Ops. At the time it had seemed, he cringed at the word, a "logical" decision. His ship had been consigned to drydock for extensive refits and upgrades, and in truth he'd felt little interest in any of the other ships that had been offered to him.

Then McCoy had decided he'd had enough of Fleet life and took an offer of early retirement, returning to private practice back home in Georgia. But the deciding blow came when he'd received the terse two line missive from Spock informing him that he would be remaining on Vulcan to pursue the ancient Vulcan discipline Kohlinar, the purging of all emotion. It had been a slap in the face to Kirk, as if their five years of friendship had meant nothing.

The prestigious posting to Ops, and the promotion to Rear Admiral had been just the balm his bruised ego needed. But the novelty had worn off quickly and was replaced by the tedium of an endless round of pointless meetings and a never-ending pile of paperwork.

But now he was back among the stars and everything in Kirk's universe was in perfect harmony. After a brief and eventful learning curve he was comfortable and confident with this new incarnation of his ship. This crew, a mixture of his trusted senior officers, and a new group of young energetic junior officers and academy graduates had been forced to bond together and rise to the challenge of saving Earth from the rogue probe that had called itself V'ger. They had performed beyond his expectations, and based on the unprecedented three day liberty at Vista Angeles for the entire crew, Starfleet had been quite impressed as well.

He glanced over to the Science console and watched as Spock gave report to his Beta shift replacement. They had made considerable progress in rebuilding their friendship over the past six weeks, thought it seemed Spock was always busy with some project or experiment. They had fallen back into their previous routine of working out in the gym after shift then joining Bones for dinner in the Officer's mess. He was looking forward to the upcoming three days of liberty and the chance to spend some time with Spock and Bones away from the hustle and bustle of breaking in a new ship.

Spock looked over to Kirk, and seeing that the Admiral's replacement was ready to assume command he finished his instructions to his young assistant and met Kirk at the turbolift.

"I'm looking forward to our trip to Vista Angeles. You've been so busy with all of your various projects and reports that we've never even had time for a chess match."

"Indeed," the Vulcan responded evenly, "I have been somewhat occupied lately. I must confess that it has been some time since I have played."

"No chess club at Gol?"

Spock raised a questioning eyebrow, then seeing Kirk's wide grin realized the Admiral was making an attempt at humor. Humans often employed humor to filter out less attractive emotions. Spock was well aware that Christine Chapel had not been the only one who had taken the abrupt departure to pursue the Kohlinar as a personal affront. He and the Admiral were working to rebuild the trust between them and reestablish the deep friendship they had shared.

_I have wronged him with my actions as well._ It was a painful realization for the Vulcan.

"I un8am looking forward to spending time with you Jim."

"And Bones?"

A ghost of a smile creased Spock's thin lips. "Surprisingly I am looking forward to spending time with the good doctor as well."

The lift doors parted and the pair found McCoy standing there. The doctor's blue eyes shifted nervously between Spock and Kirk.

"I was on my way to find you."

"Well you've found me." Kirk laughed.

McCoy cleared his throat and fixed his gaze on Spock. "Actually I was looking for you Spock. Could I speak with you for a moment?"

"Certainly doctor."

"Uh…maybe it would be better if we could go somewhere more private?"

"Unnecessary doctor, what is it you would like to know."

"Well, I've been going over the inventory reports to restock Sickbay and the Medlabs and I've found a discrepancy…"

"Medical inventory does not fall under my purview doctor, I do not understand…"

"I know that Spock, but this is kind of a…unusual case and I thought I'd check with you before checking with Geoff or Christine."

"Unusual case?" Kirk looked concerned.

"I've got a missing item and no log entries to explain why it was removed from the lab."

"Drugs?" Kirk's hazel eyes narrowed with concern.

"No, not drugs Jim." McCoy fixed his eyes on Spock. "A test… more precisely a Vulcan pregnancy test."

"I see." Spock responded stiffly. "I believe that perhaps this conversation would be best continued in a more private venue."

….


	11. Chapter 11

….

Chapter 11

Christine palmed open the door to her quarters and headed straight for the shower. It had been grueling day in Sickbay with an unusually high number of injuries. Apparently her crewmates were more focused on the upcoming liberty than on paying attention to the performance of their duties which had translated to a virtual epidemic of contusions, concussions, strains, sprains and broken bones.

She programmed the sonics to the highest setting and allowed the pulse of the tingling waves to soothe her overworked muscles and clear the mire of confusion and uncertainty of the emotional rollercoaster she'd been riding the past few days. Spock's cryptic summons to his quarters was still weighing heavily on her mind. Was it possible that her plea had touched him and he was going to allow her to transfer from the ship? Or perhaps he was simply going to lecture her on the illogical nature of her request and tell her the needs of the ship would come first.

The soft beeping sound informed her that the unit would power down in ten seconds, and for a moment she considered using her medical override code to secure of few more moments of the peaceful comfort. Instead she climbed out of the shower and wrapped herself in the short fleecy robe hanging nearby.

She pulled her curly brown hair back from her face and secured it with a clip. She studied her reflection for a moment in the small mirror over the basin. The darker hair suited her and she wondered why she'd ever allowed herself to give in to Roger's preference for blonde hair. Had she really been so young, so foolish to change herself to please a man? It was hard not to cringe at the memory of the timid, naïve girl who'd set aside her own life to chase after the ghost of a man she had thought was her future.

Christine shook her head and laughed bitterly. The woman staring back at her was not the timid young woman who had signed aboard the Enterprise to chase after her lost love, but she was certainly just as naïve as that woman had been. It was a different specter this time, but in the end just another phantom of her mind. She had wanted to believe that Spock loved her, wanted only her and so she'd believed it never stopping to question his sudden change of heart.

"That was highly illogical of you doctor," she scolded the woman in the mirror. Taking a dollop of pale pink lotion she smoothed it over her face. She would be thirty three years old in a few months; she had at least three decades before her "biological clock" would demand a final decision.

She'd gotten over Spock before, well maybe not over him but she'd managed to move past her love for him, managed to create a life for herself outside of his orbit. The breakneck schedule she'd set for herself, finishing the five year med program in under three years, had left her little time for relationships with men, though she'd had more than her share of male interest.

"_Was it a really a lack of time, or were you waiting for him…thinking someday he'd finally see you and realize…what exactly?"_

Brushing a stray curl back she brushed her fingers along the soft curve of her ear and shook her head.

"You're human Christine, no amount of hair dye or makeup is going to change that."

She was never going to be what he wanted, she finally understood that now. Maybe that realization was what she needed to accept the truth move on with her life?

Acceptance, that was the final step in the grieving process. _Accept him for who he is…and who he's not and let go of the fantasy that he could somehow love you._

Replacing the bottle of lotion she reached for one of the small containers of makeup. She regarded it for a moment then set it back down.

"It's not a date," she cautioned her reflection before removing the clip and gathering the dark waves of hair into a regulation bun. She clicked off the light in the fresher and moved to the closet. She selected a simple blue jumpsuit and a pair of fleet issued off duty flat shoes. She checked out her appearance in the full length mirror next to her dresser.

She was pleased with the look. It was neutral, impersonal, perfectly Fleet regulation, an officer attending to a summons from her Commander. She opened the comm from him yet again. "_After shift"_, it was uncharacteristically imprecise for him to give such an ambiguous time frame for their meeting.

She probably should have simply gone to his quarters directly from Sickbay, but there was something in the slightly imperious way he'd summoned her, as though she were a recalcitrant child, which she'd found annoying. She decided to respond to his directive on her own terms. It was just delaying the inevitable, she realized, but the feeling of control the small act of defiance granted had helped her to calm herself and prepare for whatever he had decided.

As the door to her quarters closed behind her she felt her resolve slipping. Turning from the corridor that led to the First Officer's Quarters she strode briskly down the hall toward the turbolift. Entering she pressed the code for the Officer's Mess. There was no point in facing him on an empty stomach.

….


	12. Chapter 12

_this chapter starts with the end of chapter 11 which was accidentally cut off when I posted that chapter_

Eric Hanson's green eyes scanned the crowded mess hall in search of a table. The place was packed, no doubt due to the shutdown of the officer's mess, and the fact that the Gamma shift had already been relieved of duty.

His pleasure at spotting an empty chair near the back was greatly increased when he realized that the table's other occupant was Christine Chapel.

"May I join you?"

Christine looked up from her padd, a warm genuine smile illuminating her lovely face. It had been that sweet open smile that had first attracted him to Christine during their first tour of duty. He'd wanted to make a move back then, but never really got the chance. It wasn't as if he'd spent the intervening years in a monastery pining away for her. He'd had his share of women, not as many as DeSalle and Riley, but he'd invested himself in several relationships that never seemed to evolve into something substantial.

She scooted the pad and her tray over to give him some room at the small table. "Pull up a chair. This place is really packed tonight."

"Is that what the doctor ordered?" he chuckled with a disapproving frown as he regarded the plate of French fried potatoes and the large chocolate brownie with fudge sauce on her dinner tray.

"It's comfort food, I've had a really bad day…correction a really bad week."

"Would some company make the week better or worse?"

"I believe your company, Lt. Hanson would improve my week considerably."

"Always glad to be of service Doctor. So what are your plans for leave?"

"Nyota and I are camping out. I've been…distracted lately and we haven't had a real chance to catch up. I'm kind of looking forward to some long nature walks and some time relaxing with a good book, and a whole uninterrupted night of sleep."

"That's sounds like fun. I'm bunking with DeSalle and Riley up at the Lodge. We're going hit the hiking trails, and maybe do a bit of skiing as well. Chekov was just telling me about a great dance club in the main rec area. Maybe we could meet up there one evening?"

"That sounds like fun. I haven't been dancing since…I can't even remember when, some time before med school. Why don't you comm me after you guys are settled in and we can make plans to meet up there?"

"It's a date!" Hansen smiled.

Chapter 12

McCoy cocked an amused eyebrow as Spock downed a shot Kirk's best Saurian brandy and held out his glass for a refill.

"So she's not pregnant?"

"No," the Vulcan shook his head for emphasis. "Apparently her symptoms were a result of her body adjusting to the contraceptive implant and Lt. Chekov's questionable skills at piloting the shuttlecraft."

"But I thought…" Kirk's ruddy cheeks flushed to an even deeper crimson. "I didn't think you could… I thought Vulcans could only…" suddenly tongue tied he gulped the last of his drink from the small cut crystal shot glass and cast a desperate pleading gaze at his Chief Medical Officer.

"What Jim is trying to say Spock, is he thought Vulcan males can only, shall we say, 'launch the torpedo' every seven years."

Kirk's unsuccessful effort to suppress a howl of laughter resulted in a spray of expensive liquor across the small inlaid table. Spock regarded the two men with unveiled irritation.

"A Vulcan male's 'torpedo', as you so delicately put it doctor, is fully functional outside of the seven year cycle. Unlike humans, we simply choose not to launch it at ever target in the quadrant."

"Point taken Mr. Spock." Kirk acknowledged as he struggled to regain his composure. "So she still won't speak to you about it?'

"Can you blame her?" McCoy snapped as he poured Kirk another drink. "She was in a very vulnerable place emotionally, probably not the best time to tell her you were planning on marrying someone else Spock. Too bad V'ger didn't give you a shot of sensitivity during that mind meld."

"Agreed Doctor. I am not proud of the manner in which I handled the incident; it had not occurred to me that she might view the relationship between us as something… permanent. It seems that there was much about this undertaking I failed to consider."

"Maybe it's for the best you got it all out into the open now Spock. It would have hurt her lot more down the road."

"Down the road?"

McCoy sighed, "If the relationship had progressed further, the emotional attachment would have been more difficult, more painful, to break."

"He's right Spock, I hate to lose Chris, but if it's what she really wants I think a transfer would be appropriate, does anyone else on the ship know?"

"I have told no one except you and Dr McCoy. I am uncertain whether Christine has told anyone, although given Lt Commander Uhura's demeanor toward me when she arrived for duty this morning I would suspect Christine has shared some of the details with her."

Spock set down his glass and rose from the table, anxiously straightening some imperceptible crease from his uniform tunic

"If you will excuse me, I have asked Dr. Chapel to come to my quarters so that we could discuss her options. I cannot imagine keeping her waiting will make our meeting any less uncomfortable."

"Okay Bones, out with it." Kirk said after he was certain the Vulcan was out of earshot.

"Out with what Jim?"

"I know you've been biting your tongue. Go ahead, say it; he's a pointy eared cold blooded hobgoblin with a computer for a heart."

McCoy stared back somberly, his normally jovial blue eyes clouded with concern. "He's a forty two year old man who's had his whole concept of who he is turned upside down by a psychotic computer probe. He's been attempting to deal with a barrage of conflicting desires and emotions that we worked through when we were teenagers."

"A man's body controlled by a hormonally challenged adolescent brain."

"Exactly Jim. Nothing in his upbringing or culture would have prepared him for this. Four decades of Vulcan discipline and control and suddenly the lid's off the cookie jar. I remember that feeling Jim, and I know I had my share of false alarms back then too."

"And some not so false." Kirk added grimly.

McCoy nodded. "I can still remember how I felt when Jocelyn told me she was pregnant with Johanna. I was scared shitless, only halfway through med school, barely able to support myself let alone a family. It was a bad way for two people to begin a marriage."

"But at least you tried, Bones. I never got that chance with my son."

"You respected Carol's choice Jim. All I'm trying to say is that we're not in a position to judge Spock. I can't believe that he would ever intentional hurt Christine."

"You know, I've always thought he had some latent attraction toward her. Sometimes I'd catch him looking at her when he thought no one was watching."

"Well, this is their problem and we'll have to let the two of them work it out between them."

"So our First Officer is human after all. Do you think he's hiding porn under his mattress?"

"Why, is some of your stash missing?"

"I can't even imagine what Vulcans would consider titillating?"

Can you picture Spock hiding under the bedcovers with a luma reading something like 'Pointy Ears and Shapely Rears'?"

"Oh, by the way, thanks for your help back there… 'launching the torpedo'? I was going for something a little more clinical."

McCoy responded with a hearty laugh, "Did you see how green his face turned? I didn't know Vulcans blushed."

"How about a couple of steaks in the private dining room, my treat."

"Now you're talking Jim boy, now you're talking."

_Author's note: couldn't help sneeking in the Big Bang Theory ref ( Pointy Ears and Shapely Rears)_


	13. Chapter 13

Christine took a deep breath and forced her trembling hand to touch the sensor for the door chime. The doors slid open to reveal a dark imposing figure outlined in the dim light emanating from the cabin. He was wearing a soft black floor length robe embellished with a metallic spidery script that she recognized from her recent time on Vulcan as the markings of Spock's clan. The thin, tightly woven fabric had a faint almost opalescent glow, and clung to his lean body a bit too tightly for her comfort. His dark eyes were stolid, giving nothing away and for a moment she felt a wave of hopelessness wash over her.

He extended his hand toward the desk where he'd laid out some plates and cups, as if this was some sort of social occasion.

"I was uncertain if you had eaten dinner."

"That was…most considerate, thank you, but I've just come from dinner."

"Of course," he said glancing nervously at the chrono. "Some tea perhaps?"

"Tea, yes that would be…fine." Damn him, why was he dragging this out. She stifled the impulse to tell him to just cut to the chase and tell her why he summoned her here. But she'd already skirted the edges of insubordination with him, if he was going to be a gracious host, she could at pretend to be a gracious, or at least patient, guest.

His new cabin was spacious; twice the size of her own quarters, rank apparently did indeed have its privileges. The only furnishings appeared to be the desk, a bed and two chairs, all standard Fleet issue. It was certainly a far cry from his quarters during the last mission, the walls draped with rich exquisitely woven fabrics and decorated with ancient Vulcan artworks and artifacts.

"It's a bit Spartan."

"My personal belongings were in storage on Vulcan, I sent for them but apparently Sarek has not had time to ship them."

He carefully poured two mugs of the jasmine oolong tea, and Christine took one, grateful for something to occupy her hands. A week ago she wouldn't have had to worry about what to do with her hands she mused dourly, she would have been working the fastenings on that robe like a Risan pleasure girl. Perhaps, she mused, in some other universe the two of them were lying on that bed lost in each others arms, instead of self consciously sipping tea with nothing but the gulf of uncomfortable silence between them. The thought was strangely sad, but somehow comforting.

"I would like to…" she hesitated realizing that her voice was wavering. She cleared her throat then continued. "I'd like apologize to you for some of the things I said when you came to my office. I was very angry and not in control of my self."

"Christine…" he hesitated for a moment, "I believe that I am the one who should apologize to you. There is no excuse for the manner in which I behaved. It was selfish…and insensitive to your feelings."

Christine held up a hand to silence him.

"Maybe it would be best if we simply agree that neither of us has been at our best in the past week and put it behind us. I was hoping that you'd reached some decision concerning my transfer request."

"As First Officer of this vessel I believe the needs of the Enterprise would be best served by having you remain here as ACMO."

"I see," she set the cup down and shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

"However," he continued, "under the circumstances, as a matter of personal honor, I have decided to approve your request once you have secured a suitable billet."

"Thank you sir…Spock, thank you Spock."

"Christine…I regret the disappointment I caused you. The Vulcan Tradition…"

Christine shook her head. "My disappointment came from my own expectations. You were simply being truthful about what you wanted, the fact that it was a truth I wasn't prepared to hear isn't your fault. But something good has come from all of this."

"Something good?"

"I've finally let go of the fantasy that you could ever love me. I feel like I can move forward now, find someone who can love me with all of my messy illogical human emotions."

"You believe that I did not care for you?"

"I think it's irrelevant. I'm thirty two years old and I've been acting like some lovesick teenager. When I thought I was pregnant…" She swallowed hard and for a moment Spock thought she was going to cry. "I realized that I wanted a child. Even after…when I knew that you didn't want me, I still wanted that baby. When the test came back negative I should have felt relieved but I felt…disappointed."

The Vulcan raised a questioning eyebrow.

"I know, it's 'highly illogical', but in case you haven't figured it out yet, human women aren't all that logical."

"I have noticed that."

"It's something I never really thought about. But I've come to realize that I want children, a family of my own."

"I would have…" he looked down at the table for a few moments, "I would have provided for you and our child."

She nodded. "I know. I...I really need to get back to Sickbay. I"ve got less that twelve hours to get things shutdown and secured for leave."

"Is that not Doctor McCoy's responsibility?"

Christine chucked and flashed a brief smile. "It's easier for me to do it for him than to let him do it and have to fix it later."

"The two of you are close, he will miss you."

"We've been together for a long time. I'll miss him too."

"I will miss…you, the closeness we shared."

She shrugged her shoulders dismissively and took another sip of the warm tea. "It was what it was."

"It is important to me you that understand I valued what passed between us, valued it greatly."

He reached across the table and took her hand. He was about to speak again when the door chimed.

"Come." Spock rose from the table and moved toward the door as it slid open to reveal the petite, and decidedly feminine figure on the other side.

She was obviously Vulcan, young and quite beautiful and she was carrying a pair of travel bags. Christine felt a clenching pain at the center of her stomach as the implication clarified. Summoning every shred of dignity she could find within her, she rose slowly from the table and steeled her face into a stiff emotionless mask worthy of a Vulcan.

"Well it appears you aren't wasting any time. Good day Commander."

She nodded at the young woman as she passed then strode briskly down the corridor in the direction of the turbolift, waiting until she was certain she'd heard the soft swooshing sound of the door closing before quickening her pace, praying that she'd be able to keep her recently consumed dinner down until she reached the fresher in her cabin.


	14. Chapter 14

"I apologize if I have arrived at an inconvenient time." The woman handed him the bags as she raised an inquisitive eyebrow and nodded toward the teacups on the desk. "It seems rather late in the day to be conducting ship's business, but perhaps this business was of a more intimate nature?"

Spock regarded the young woman with a sharp gaze. "Impertinence is unattractive in a female of any species, but I find it particularly distasteful in a Vulcan girl of your age Saavik-kam. There are no 'business hours' on the Enterprise, certainly even a junior cadet would understand the relationship of time to the running of a Constitution Class Starship."

The young woman demurred at the correction and bowed her head in supplication "I shall rephrase S'ai; I regret if my arrival interrupted your intercourse with the woman."

Spock sighed deeply, eliciting another raised eyebrow from the young woman. "Your apology though disingenuous is unnecessary _ko-kan_ ; Dr Chapel had duties to attend."

He set the bags down beside the table, then proceeded to gather up the cups and teapot, depositing them in the recycler.

"Dr Chapel? Dr Christine Chapel?"

"Yes, Dr. Christine Chapel. Do you know her?"

"I've never met her, but Sarek has spoken of her several times. He asked me to be certain to extend his regards to her."

"My father knows Christine?" The surprise in the Vulcan's normally phlegmatic tone was unmistakable. His father would have met Christine while she attended him in Sickbay during his emergency heart surgery en route to the Babel Conference. But that was years ago, and Christine had been a nurse then, not a doctor. The extending of regards, particularly through an intermediary, presumed a degree of relationship beyond a years old incidental acquaintance. Such a breech of propriety from his father was puzzling indeed.

"He sponsored her residency at the Vulcan Science Academy. You did not know?"

"She mentioned studying at the Academy, but not that Sarek had been her sponsor."

"It happened while you were…away." Her icy emphasis on the last word left Spock no doubt of her anger with his decision to pursue the Kohlinahr. "Sarek says she is an exceptionally gifted healer. I understand she was offered a teaching position at the Academy after she finished her residency."

"A Terran… teaching at the Vulcan Science Academy?"

"T'Pau herself made the offer, but Dr Chapel chose instead to return to Starfleet."

"Enough talk of Dr. Chapel's career Saavik. I would know of your progress at Starfleet Academy."

"I am returning to classes now S'ai. It has been a most challenging endeavor. I am unaccustomed to the nuances of living among humans; their ways often seem…most illogical."

"Indeed, but the principles of the IDIC instruct us that there is much to be learned from embracing that which is outside of our understanding."

"Agreed. I hope to gain knowledge and understanding by rising to the challenge."

"It is most pleasing seeing you little one, it has been too long." He turned his attention to the bags next to the desk.

"The rest of your belongings have been transferred to one of the cargo bays. Sarek asked that these be delivered to you by my own hand, and this…"she held out a tiny datachip, "He said you would be expecting this."

"Yes." He took the proffered chip hesitantly. "Thank you Saavik-kam. Have you eaten endmeal?"

"I have not."

"Then I shall prepare a light meal for us."

He turned the tiny chip over in his hand feeling a strange mixture of relief and dread. Duty and responsibility…the tiny chip held the key to his future. A list of women Sarek deemed 'suitable' to be bonded to their house. He slipped the tiny device into his computer for safekeeping then returned his attention to the bright eyed young woman who had seated herself at his desk.

"How about some p'ash'ma'k and roasted plomeek?"

"Most agreeable S'ai."

"After our meal you can tell me of the latest news from ShiKhar."


	15. Chapter 15

"Oh Ny, it was just so…humiliating. She was so beautiful, and thin and young….so young. I felt like a dusty old dinosaur."

"You're not a dinosaur Chris, do you even see the way the men look at you when you walk across the mess hall. If you weren't my best friend I'd hate you. Here, drink this."

Chapel took the proffered cup and sniffed it cautiously.

"It's mint tea," Nyota assured her friend. "It should settle your stomach."

"It's petty of me, I know but why couldn't she look like a sehlat? Seriously, aren't there any ugly women on Vulcan, and damn him couldn't he have at least waited until I was off the ship to have her move in?"

"You could be wrong, maybe she's not staying?"

"She had two big travel bags with her; it sure looked like she was moving in to me."

"You can't let this ruin our leave. The next three days are for us."

"I know Ny, I don't know what I'd do without you."

"That's what friends are for girl, that's what friends are for."

….

Spock strode purposely from the transporter room back to his quarters oblivious to the animated chatter of the crew as they scurried about completing their final tasks before leave. Saavik's visit had been a pleasant diversion from his recent turmoil. He was pleased with her progress at the Academy, though at times he was concerned that away from the structure and discipline of life on Vulcan her more emotionally volatile Romulan nature would begin to assert itself.

It had been difficult to dissuade her from delivering Sarek's greetings to Christine in person. She had finally given in only after eliciting his promise to extend the greetings to Christine himself.

He was still ruminating over Christine's abrupt departure, and her cryptic comment that he wasn't wasting time. It had seemed for a moment that they had come to an understanding between them, what he'd heard humans refer to as 'closure'. But then he'd seen the bitter flash of anger in her eyes. It made no sense.

He palmed open the door and entered his quarters. He would need to make arrangements for the containers with his belongings to be moved here while he was on liberty with Jim and Dr. McCoy. Perhaps with the familiar objects surrounding him this would start to seem like home. He moved the pair of travel bags to the bed and stopped in his tracks.

_The__travel bags_…Christine had seen a Vulcan woman arrive at his quarters with two travel bags. She had probably assumed that the woman…

He shook his head and sank down onto the bed. Could she actually believe him so insensitive? And yet, he mused dispiritedly, he had certainly shown a most insensitive side of his nature to her in the past week.

His eyes moved to the computer terminal where he'd stored Sarek's missive. Certainly his mate would not wish to come aboard the Enterprise? In the past few years it was becoming more common to see Vulcan wives working off world, or Vulcan couples serving together on starships. _Kroykah!_ He discarded the disquieting thought anxiously; she would, as the Tradition dictated, remain on Vulcan to raise the child of their joining.

Springing up from the bed he booted up the computer terminal and opened the message from his father.

"My son," Sarek's face filled the small screen. His father's dark hair was grayer than Spock remembered and the lines on his gaunt face had deepened. "I received your communication concerning the necessity of securing a new bondmate. This is a subject that has recently arisen within my own meditations as well. The death of young Sonak is a grim reminder of the dangers inherent in the pursuit of a career in Starfleet. Sonak, at least, had the foresight and commitment to the Vulcan Way to assure the continuation of the bloodline of his house before setting off among the stars.

"We will not dwell on the unsettling incident with T'Pring other than to say that I may have been in error in seeking to bond our two houses. I… I regret that the bonding was unsuccessful, but in the end I believe that it was best that her treachery was made manifest before the bonding was consummated.

"I have consulted with T'Pau in the search for a potential bondmate. For a male of your age there are few unbonded females from whom to choose. She was able to find one female who she believes would be a suitable mate and produce offspring to continue our house. I have studied the file and find that I am in complete agreement with the logic behind her choice. I would ask you to study the attached file carefully and decide if you are willing to consider her as a potential mate. Given your human genetics, and as such the unpredictability of your cycle, I believe it would be prudent to make the arrangements as soon as possible.

"I will await your instructions my son."

He raise his hand in the Ta'al and stared solemnly at Spock.

"Peace and Long Life."

Sarek's image faded from the screen and was replaced by a file directory. Spock stared at the florid Old Vulcan script for a long time, his finger hovering over the glowing screen.

"Does it matter?" he whispered aloud. Why engage the fallacious pretext of choice in the matter? It didn't matter who she was, or where she'd been schooled or what she looked like. He had duties and responsibilities; _Kaiidith_, what is, is."

He opened a text comm addressing it to his father at the Vulcan Embassy in ShiKahr.

"I have appreciative of your efforts on my behalf. The choice is acceptable please make the arrangements as soon as possible.


	16. Chapter 16

Christine scooped up the padd she'd been working on then retrieved her coffee mug from the bookshelf. Strolling into the outer office she started to pour a cup of coffee and frowned.

"Really Len? I just spent the last three hours doing the shut down procedures and you can't even make a damn pot of coffee?"

"Sorry Chris I was busy catching up on some medical journals."

"Was it by any chance the 'American Journal of Kentucky Bourbon'? Here sign off on this and we're officially off duty."

"Don't you think I should read it first?"

"Yeah right, make sure you double check the part about the digital integrations of the flux capacitor, there might be a problem?

"There's a problem with the flux capacitor?"

"Yeah there's a problem; we don't have one."

"It's missing? The flux capacitor is missing?"

"It's like fishing in a barrel. Yes it's missing, if by missing you mean there's not such thing as a flux capacitor. Just sign off so I can go and finish my packing. I'm supposed to meet Nyota in an hour."

McCoy stole a quick glance at his wrist chrono. "I guess I should get a move on too. I'm meeting Jim and Spock in..." McCoy tensed. "Sorry Chris."

"Sorry?" Christine responded with a puzzled frown that promptly morphed into an agitated sigh. "Who told you?"

"Spock."

"I expected a Vulcan to be a bit more discrete…Damn him, who else knows?"

"Just Jim, look Chris it's my fault. I confronted him about the missing pregnancy test and it just all came out. If it makes any difference he feels like a real ass about the whole thing."

"I find that perfectly logical since he was a real ass. How much did he tell you?"

"Enough. I know you're transferring off the ship. I wish there was something I could do to make you change your mind."

"I don't want to go, but if I stay here I'll never have any sort of life. He's already moving on, I need to start moving on too… but I know myself well enough to realize that can't happen on this ship, not with him here."

"Well you know if you need any sort of reference."

"Yeah, I'll write myself it and forge your authorization password."

"You know my password?"

"I do, and just for future reference 'password' isn't a particularly secure password."

"I've been using it for years."

"And I've been getting into your files for years hmmm coincidence…I think not. You know I'll miss you Len?"

"I know…I just wish…"

"When I was on Vulcan my _T'kher_ explained the concept of '_Kaiidith'_, it translates as 'what is, is'. Humans have a tendency to cling to our notions of what might have been, but by unconditionally accepting that which is and can't be changed, the mind and soul are truly free to move forward."

"You're really something Christine Chapel."

"I'm getting there," she laughed, "I'm still a work in progress, and speaking of progress…" she handed him the padd.

McCoy responded with an untellable grumble then entered his password.

"It's official." He beamed "We're on liberty."


	17. Chapter 17

Vista Angeles was most aptly named, Christine decided as she gazed out the transport window to the magnificent view of the expansive nature preserve. No wonder the Fleet elite kept this place all to themselves. Christine perused the padd Nyota gave her which detailed the various recreational amenities available to them. There were hiking trails, cliff faces to scale, horseback ridding, several pristine lakes for swimming and boating and several natural spas.

She checked out the times for the classes offered at the yoga center, scrolling thorough a dozen photos of the sunrise and sunset in the all glass studio. Something for the mind, body and eye she smiled. Nyota, of course had bookmarked all of the shopping areas, best restaurants and dance clubs.

The dark haired doctor felt her spirits lifting as the transport docked at the main station. She'd just lived though possibly the worst week of her entire life, and she was looking forward to some rest and relaxation. She and Nyota gathered their travel bags and headed toward the line at the check in kiosk. Within a few moments they were checked in and in line for the transporter to beam them to their campsite.

With the gentle whine of the transporter she and Nyota materialized in a small stand of trees. The transporter pad had been camouflaged as a quartet of flat gray stones. It was impressive, the seamless blending of rustic natural beauty and state of the art technology. It was apparent that no expense had been spared in the creation of this paradise, and she made a mental note to investigate which sections at Fleet had access to the resort while searching out a new posting.

She'd been pleased with Nyota's suggestions that they opt for one of the secluded campsites rather than the overcrowded lodges. By rights, they would have been entitled to claim one of the of luxurious hillside cabins which had been reserved for the most senior officers, but the proximity to Spock and his young fiancée made that choice less than palatable.

Besides, there was a certain charm to sleeping outside under the stars. Their small campsite boasted a stone fire pit, four thermal pads with sleeping bags, a small table with four stools, a low slung locker with supplies, a small camp latrine with sonic shower and dressing area and a panoramic view of the pristine blue lake below them. The nearest campsite was just over five kilometers away and the lake was an easy six kilometer hike down the gently sloping hillside.

The first thing she noticed as she and Nyota stowed their gear and provisions was the quiet. Christine couldn't remember the last time she'd experienced such simple, peaceful quiet. Even in those rare instances that she wasn't surrounded by the constant clamor of the crew hustling about with their various duties, there always remained the faint backdrop noise that she though of it as the ships biosigns. The soft, barely perceptible hum of the warp coils, the gentle buzz of the punps as they recirculated the filtered air, and recycled water, the beeping of the turbolift, the soft swooshing sound of the pneumatic doors as they opened and closed, the ubiquitous stream of pages and alerts throughout the day, the chimes that marked off the hours and change of duty shifts.

A gentle breeze washed over her and she closed her eyes and visualized herself as a leaf carried on the wind, mindless of where she'd come from or where she was going, simply focusing on the journey itself.

'_Surrender__T'Christa'_ The stolid voice of her Vulcan meditation instructor rippled through her consciousness. For some reason his gentle urging always brought to mind the ancient terran vid The Wizard of Oz and the Wicked Witch's demand to "Surrender Dorothy" written against the sky, making any further attempt at meditation futile.

But the moral of the classic film was timeless, she mused. Lasting happiness can only be found within oneself. She'd allowed that truth to slip away six weeks ago, allowed her intellect to be silenced by her heart. She had blindly surrendered Christine, not thinking about where that surrender might lead.

Was it really the loss of Spock she'd been grieving, or was it the loss of her own youthful innocence? The realization that love doesn't conquer all, that wanting might be more pleasing that having, that sometimes you kiss the frog and he's still just a frog, a big green pointy eared frog that hopped off and married another green pointy eared frog.

"Are you okay Chris? You seem like you're a million light years away."

"I'm okay…no I'm better than okay. I feel happy…I feel …free. How about a hike up to the lodge for some lunch?"


	18. Chapter 18

Leonard McCoy stared through the window at the dark clad figure perched on the edge of the rocky outcropping in front of their cabin. He sighed audibly then turned his attention back to elaborate welcome basket packed with an appetizing assortment of exotic fruits, and delicacies, taking particular note of the two bottles of fine aged Kentucky Bourbon.

"What in the hell is he up to now?" the doctor grumbled as he filled a pair of glasses with ice, "and what's with the black robes, I told him to bring casual clothes."

"He's meditating," Kirk responded as he lit the kindling threaded through the firewood. "And I think those are his casual clothes."

"It's shore leave Jim… not a damn funeral. How am I supposed to relax and enjoy myself with the grim reaper skulking around?"

"Come on Bones, I thought you were the one who said we should cut him a little slack? Between Gol, and V'Ger and that business with Chapel I think he needs this leave more than we do." Kirk accepted the proffered drink and settled himself on one of the leather covered chairs that flanked the stone fireplace.

"I know," the doctor acceded begrudgingly, "he and Chris both look like hell."

"She's really going to transfer off the ship?"

McCoy nodded grimly. "I tried my best to talk her out of it but she's made up her mind, I don't know who's more hard headed, Christine or that damn Vulcan."

"She can't forgive him?"

"I think she's already forgiven him. It's more than that Jim; Chris wants to move on with her life… but she doesn't feel like she'll be able to do that on the Enterprise with...that green blooded hobgoblin lurking in the background."

"You'd think after that debacle with T'Pring he wouldn't be so set on wanting a Vulcan wife."

"It would be illogical to assume that T'Pring is a representative sample of all Vulcan women Admiral." Spock stood in the doorway, his expression puzzled. "It is impossible to formulate a hypothesis given such a small sampling of exploitable data."

"Sorry Spock," Kirk smiled sheepishly, "we were talking about Christine leaving the ship."

"It was not my preference that she leave, but she has explained the reasoning behind her decision and I have accepted the logic of her choice".

"_Kaaidith,"_ McCoy responded softly.

The Vulcan raised a puzzled eyebrow. "I was unaware that you spoke Vulcan Dr. Mccoy."

"I don't; it was something Chris said when she was explaining to me why she had to leave. It was something she learned on Vulcan. She said unconditional acceptance of the impossible, would free her to move toward the possible."

"I did not intend to hurt her, in was an unanticipated outcome."

Kirk and McCoy exchanged a quick glance, surprised by the edge of pain and regret in the Vulcan's normal emotionless voice.

"She knows that." McCoy assured his friend softly.

"Does that mitigate her pain?"

"I believe it does." Kirk chimed in, and McCoy nodded his agreement.

"It does not diminish the regret I feel to have been the instrument of her sorrow. I did not realize that desire could be such a powerful emotion, it locks one in the moment and blinds one to the potential consequences of one's actions."

"It is the irresistible force my friend," Kirk touched the Vulcan's shoulder lightly, "Somehow I always pictured you as the unmovable object."

"Kaiidith", he bowed his head for a moment, and then straightened himself the emotionless Vulcan mask securely in place. "I have contacted my father to make arrangements for another bonding. He and T'Pau have presented a female they believe suitable to join with our family."

"You're getting married?" McCoy's blue eyes widened.

"I believe that is what I said Doctor."

"When?" Kirk asked.

"I am uncertain as to how long the arrangements will take, but I believe it would be prudent to complete the bonding as soon as possible. Of course, the needs of the ship will take precedence in determining the time frame for the ceremony. I would hope that the two of you would be willing to accompany me."

"I'm sure we can work something out Spock. Who is she?"

"I do not know."

"Wait, you're getting married but you don't know who you're gonna marry? Am I missing something?"

The Vulcan sighed and seated himself in the chair across frim Kirk.

"Sarek dispatched a file with her photo and the details of her family and background. I did not see the logic in viewing it. As there is only one candidate there is no choice involved. I did not find it logical to form an opinion."

"There's only one choice?"

"Most Vulcan's are bonded at a young age. As such, there are few unbonded females available from which to choose, and there would be those who would not put their daughter forward to be joined with one…one such as myself."

"Because you're human?"

"There are some for whom the purity of the bloodlines is considered sacred."

"But," Kirk frowned, "what about the principles of IDIC? I thought your people held those sacred as well."

"As in any society, there are always some who are able to separate principle from practice."

"It's nothing more that bigotry."

"Indeed Doctor, I have faced bigotry among humans as well as Vulcans. I find it most illogical. It is a direct contradiction of the Tenants of Surak, and violates the majority of terran religious and philosophical beliefs."

"So you're going to marry a woman you don't even know, a woman you've never even seen, because she's Vulcan; but you won't even consider Christine because she's human?"

"Bones, don't…" Kirk's hazel eyes darted anxiously from McCoy to Spock.

"It is not that simple Doctor." Spock retorted, his usually even voice was tinged with anger. "There are cultural factors you cannot possibly fathom."

McCoy snatched up the bottle of Kentucky Bourbon from the coffee table and stalked out the door and across the porch. Stunned, Kirk scrambled after him catching up with him at the stairs.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm going to meditate."

"With a bottle of bourbon?" Kirk struggled to stifle a laugh.

"Do I tell you how to meditate? This is shaping up to be a hell of a shore leave Jim, a hell of a shore leave!"


	19. Chapter 19

"I still like the green one better Chris." Nyota Uhura examined Christine's reflection in the holomirror, exasperation clearly written on her dark features. "With your height you really should show off more leg."

Christine responded to her friend's scolding with a dramatic eye roll. "It was showing off a lot more than my legs Ny."

"Hey, the girls like to get out too."

"Well, 'the girls' will have to make do." She took a final look at the holographic image. While the claret colored chemise was considerably more modest than the dress Nyota had selected, it was still sexier than anything in her current wardrobe. Nyota touched the screen and the emerald dress reappeared. The Deltan silk had a sensual sheen, and the thin fabric clung possessively to the image of her body like a second skin.

"Maybe a size larger?"

"No, that fits you perfectly."

"I don't know Ny?"

"I thought you wanted to move on…to find someone. Well to find someone you've got to get out there, and that dress is the first step."

"Maybe I should start with a smaller step?" the dark haired doctor chuckled nervously "or in this case a larger step."

"What are you so afraid of Chris? You're a young, gorgeous woman… it's time you started dressing the part. Nyota reached across to the order screen and pressed 'yes'. "You're wearing it tonight."

A few short moments later the clerk appeared with the dresses they'd selected.

"So Ny, where to next?" Christine asked as she deftly entered the codes for her other purchases to be transported back to the ship.

"Well, we've got seven hours until our dinner reservation, why don't we take these back to our campsite then head up to the top of the trail for some parasailing."

"Sounds perfect."

Leonard McCoy moved slowly across the wooden porch, cringing at the squeaking elicited by each careful footfall. Creeping around the corner he found Jim lazing on the porch swing, engrossed in the book of Mark Twain short stories that Spock had given him on the last Christmas of the first tour.

"How was your meditation?" Kirk asked as his eyes moved from the half empty bottle in McCoy's hand then back to his book.

"I'm sorry Jim…"

Kirk closed the book with an audible snap and set it on the low table in next to the swing. "I'm not the one you owe an apology."

"I know." McCoy sighed and dropped himself down beside Kirk. "I'm the last person to be giving advice on marriage to anyone, that's for sure. I shouldn't have started running my mouth…but damn it there are four hundred women on the ship, why did it have to be Christine?"

"I've wondered about that myself. Given the history between them maybe it was inevitable."

"You have finished your meditations Doctor?" The Vulcan stepped out onto the porch carrying a tray with a pot of coffee and three cups which he set down on the small table.

"Look Spock, I owe you…" McCoy's eyes widened with surprise as he realized that the Vulcan was no longer dressed in his black robes, but was in fact wearing a pair of jeans and a dark gray cabled turtleneck sweater.

"Is something wrong Doctor?" the Vulcan raised a wary eyebrow.

"No…it's just…your clothes, I've never seen you dressed in normal clothes before. You look so…human."

"Really Doctor, there is no need insulting. I understood my attire was not appropriate to our shore leave activities and I have made some adjustments." The Vulcan's gaunt face was somber, but there was a soft edge of almost human teasing in his voice.

"Look Spock, I made some remarks earlier that were totally out of line. What happened with you and Chris is your business, and even I see the irony of me giving you advice on marriage. It's just…you know Christine has been like a daughter to me. It's hard to have this kind of conflict between…between two people…two friends, who mean so much to me. I don't like seeing her hurt…or you.

"You were right, there is a lot about your customs and culture that I don't fully understand, hell there's a lot about my own customs and culture I don't understand. I intend to make an effort to change that, and I hope that you can learn to put up with my illogical human emotionalism without having to run that eyebrow up the flagpole every five minutes."

"I accept your apology Doctor, and shall endeavor to control my eyebrows while in your presence to the best of my ability." There was a crinkle of amusement in the Vulcan's dark eyes and McCoy was certain he'd seen a fleeting trace of a smile.

"It is ingrained within the Vulcan nature to maintain a certain degree of circumspection in regard to certain aspects of our customs and culture, particularly among humans. My lack of …candor in that regard appears to has created a rift between us. I would like to learn more of that in which you find value, and would endeavor to be more open…" his eyes moved to Kirk, "with both of you."

"I'd be honored to accompany you to Vulcan for your wedding, that is, if the invitation is still open."

"It would be greatly pleasing if you would be there with me. I do not believe you will be called upon to utilize your medical expertise this time."

"And hopefully you and I won't be engaging in any armed combat." Kirk added with a chuckle, "I've spent the past two years sitting behind a desk, I'm not exactly combat ready."

"I would place the chances of armed combat at point zero zero four three seven, however given that you should be seen as a role model for the crew, it would be prudent for you to engage in a program to, I believe the term is 'shape up' nonetheless."

Kirk's grin faded and his hazel eyes darted to the sound of McCoy's failed attempt to stifle a guffaw.

"Spock, there's such a thing as too much candor."

The Vulcan puzzled over Kirks peevish glare for a moment, then poured each of them a mug of coffee.

"I have prepared a list of possible recreational activities that I believe you might find appropriate." Spock said, nodding to the padd on the coffee tray.

"Nothing too strenuous," Kirk remarked tartly, "apparently some people think I'm out of shape."

The Vulcan started to raise a puzzled eyebrow, but stopped himself. McCoy laughed raucously, and Kirk despite himself dissolved into a fit of laughter as well.

"Now this is my idea of shore leave." McCoy smiled as added a generous shot of Kentucky's finest to his coffee.


	20. Chapter 20

Gods of every universe, I swear this is better than sex! You've got to try this Chris."

Christine Chapel discretely scooped up a forkful of her companion's decadent desert. A sensual moan escaped her cherry red glossed lips as the silky textured confection to slid tantalizingly across her tongue.

"It's wonderful…but I'm not sure it's better than sex," she responded with a sly grin, "I believe I'll need another sample to be certain."

"Another sample of cake or another sample of…"

"Cake," the darkhaired doctor protested as she stole another forkful of the café's signature Parisian torte that boasted ten different kinds of chocolate.

"So," Nyota leaned forward as a wickedly provocative smile played across her full lips, "don't get mad at me, but I've been dying to ask you this, was it green?"

"Was what green?"

"Spock…his, you know, his…his thing, was it green?"

"You really do have a one track mind Ny, how did we get back on this topic."

"It's not prurient interest Chris, it's purely scientific curiosity."

"Well… in the interest of science and since I've had five shots of cake vodka…have you ever had a Horny Vulcan?"

"The drink?"

"Well of course the drink Ny! Sheesh… if you'd had an actual horny Vulcan you wouldn't have to ask what color it was."

"Okay yes, I've had the drink. So…give, is it green or not?"

"Not at first, but when it's…standing at attention it turns a sort of dusky olive green just like…"

"A Horny Vulcan!"

"Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner." Christine leaned across the table, crooking a long slender finger to coax Nyota closer, "and… you know what else? It smells like cloves and nutmeg."

"You're kidding."

"No, I'd always have this insatiable craving for pumpkin pie afterward."

"Was it good?"

"The pumpkin pie?"

"No, Christine, for heaven's sake," the Bantu woman rolled her dark eyes in exasperation. "Not the pie…the sex."

Christine took another bite of Nyota's dessert. "This is fantastic, but in fairness the sex was off the freaking charts amazing. He was very…considerate and quite the multitasker…on the other hand, chocolate never dumps you for another piece of chocolate half your age, so I guess it's kind of a wash.

"Damn Ny, how did we end up back on this dismal topic? I hereby declare any more talk of Vulcan's penises or their grinchy green little peanut sized hearts off limits."

"Sorry Chris, you're right, from now on we focus on fun. I'm ready for some dancing. What time are we meeting Hanson and Riley?"

"He said they'd be there any time after nine."

…..

Kirk groaned plaintively as he stood up from the table, and was nearly run down by a young female server as she hustled by with a huge tray filled with pitchers of beer. The Wild West themed restaurant was packed, and Kirk turned quickly to catch another glimpse of the scantily attired young cowgirl as she disappeared into the crowd.

"That last t-bone was probably a mistake," he admitted begrudgingly.

"Perhaps you should not have taken the phrase, "all you can eat" as a personal challenge?" Spock responded dryly.

"I was just getting my money's worth."

"I find your logic somewhat specious. As all of our meals are being provided by Starfleet, there would appear to be no outlay of capital on your part."

"No one likes a smart ass Spock."

Spock cast a puzzled gaze to McCoy, who rocked back on his heels grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"As an ass is traditionally a beast of burden, would it not be logical to desire an increase in the animal's intelligence as a means to increase its efficiency?"

Kirk sighed in defeat, if he'd learned one thing on the first five year mission it was that engaging in any sort of debate with his Vulcan First Officer was like feeding a tribble. "Duly noted Mr. Spock."

"Well the night is still young gentlemen, where do we go from here?" McCoy asked as he retrieved his jacket from the attractive young woman at the coat check.

"Sulu told me about a club just a couple of blocks from here, he said it's got a galaxy class bar and live music." Kirk's enthusiastic grin faded slightly. "I guess that's not exactly your idea of a fun evening Spock."

"Admiral, Vulcans do not experience the need for mindless recreational diversion as humans do."

"Then why did you bother coming with us on shore leave?" McCoy grumbled, "the whole point of shore leave is to have fun."

"Agreed doctor, I understand that it is necessary for the Admiral and yourself, and in the interest of rebuilding our friendship I am quite willing to participate in any activities that you deem necessary to the recreational process."

"Necessary to the recreational process?"

"Bones I think he's saying he's 'all in'"

"All in? I do not understand your implication, precisely what am I in."

"You're in for an evening of 'fun' my friend." Kirk responded with a wicked grin. "Let's go find that club."


	21. Chapter 21

Christine stood up trying to see over the throngs of her fellow crewmembers moving on the crowded dance floor. The pulsing multispectral illumination, which appeared to originate from beneath the dance floor, painted a curious tangle of moving lights and shadows on the ceiling. She was happy to see Eric Hanson and Kevin Riley at the table the bartender indicated, seated among a group of redshirts from Engineering.

Christine nodded softly as she picked up her drink and followed her friend through the crowd of dancers.

"I was afraid you changed your mind." Hansen smiled then planted a light friendly kiss on her cheek.

He took her hand and ushered them to a pair of empty chairs. "You look…absolutely amazing."

"It's a new dress, it's really not the kind of thing I normally wear, Nyota picked it out."

"Well maybe it's time to rethink what you normally wear." He raised his glass to her as if to underscore the sentiment.

"It's a little…brief." She tugged nervously at the hem as she took the proffered seat.

"It doesn't show as much as the old uniforms…I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss those."

"True, I'm sure they were designed by men." Christine laughed easily. "There were horribly uncomfortable and it was nearly impossible to do my job without giving everyone an eyeful."

"I believe you may have given me one or two eyes full on the first mission, not that I'm complaining."

"Well I was younger then…not to mention the five kilos lighter, you'd think the food at the Fleet Medical school would be healthier. I can't imagine anyone would want to see me parading around in one of those uniforms now."

He moved his green eyes appraisingly over her body, "You managed to put it on in exactly the right places If you don't mind me saying, I think you look better now than you did on the first mission."

"Oh feel free engage in as much flattery as you like," Chapel's sapphire eyes sparkled with laughter. "Word has it that what really prompted the redesign wasn't the brass bending to the demands of the senior female officers, it was the number of incident reports that involved male crewmembers who were inexplicably 'distracted' from duty."

Hanson leaned forward with a hearty laugh, his hand briefly resting on Christine's bare forearm. "Well, Christine, we're not on duty now, so I guess it's okay if I'm a bit distracted. I must confess to having something of a crush on your during the last mission, even though you barely knew my name."

"I'm sorry Eric, I didn't know. I was pretty wrapped up in my own issues back then…a lot of water under the bridge."

"I remember when you lost your fiancé. I was walking by one of the small conference rooms and I heard you crying. I wanted to stop and say something to you, but I…I didn't want to intrude on your grief. I guess I'm not too good with that kind of stuff. "

"It's funny now, I only billeted onto the Enterprise to find Roger. I never had that burning dream to go into space that my classmates did. Then after…when I found out Roger was gone, I thought I'd just go back to the University and tuck myself away in a biomed lab for the rest of my life. But I couldn't stand the thought of leaving the Enterprise; I realized that I'd finally found a place where it felt like I fit in, like I belonged. "

"I know what you mean. After the last mission I felt sort of lost… and I busted my ass to get back there. It's…it's home to me." He raised a hand and held up two fingers to the bartender signaling another round.

"I can't tell you how happy I felt when I got off that transport and saw you in the cargo bay Chris."

"I'm afraid you didn't see me at my best, as I recall I was raking the cargo handlers over the coals for losing half of my supplies."

"You did seem a bit…feistier than I remembered; and I noticed you'd darkened your air. I like it." He reached out and brushed an unruly curl back behind her ear.

Christine felt a warm, almost electric rush along the path traced by his fingertips. It was intoxicating, to feel so desired, so wanted. Wanted by a real, red blooded man, a man who found her attractive, it was like a comforting balm on her wounded pride.

She was suddenly self conscious, as if he could somehow sense her thoughts. Nyota? She turned to find her friend's chair empty.

"She's dancing with Riley."

"Ny loves to dance, she always the life of the party."

"What about you Chris, do you like to dance?"

"I'm not as good a dancer as Nyota, I always been a bit of a wallflower, but I do like to dance."

He rose gracefully from his seat and extended his hand to her. "Then may I have the honor of this dance?"

"I'd be delighted."

Spock struggled to contain his distaste for the repugnant spectacle that surrounded them. It had never ceased to amaze him, the illogical lengths humans would go to in the pursuit of the elusive goal of "fun". This establishment, he observed, was yet another typical terran celebration of excess. Garish lights flashed in time to the guttural pounding of the music, creating a frenetic atmosphere, populated by preening half dressed females, and strutting inebriated males, engaged in a graceless, primitive mating dance.

"Sulu wasn't kidding," McCoy shouted over the cacophonous clattering of the Deltan rock band. "This place is hopping."

"Hopping?" the Vulcan puzzled, "Doctor unless there were to be some sort of seismic anomaly it is physically impossible…"

"I meant there's a lot going on, the crowds and music," McCoy grumbled, "Dang nab it I'm gettin' you an English dictionary for Christmas."

"Fascinating," the Vulcan responded dryly, "I was just thinking that perhaps I should get you an English dictionary."

"Gentlemen," Kirk interrupted as he saw a young female server approaching their table, "I believe those are our drinks."

"A pitcher of beer and a bottle of Jack, Admiral?"

"That's us, thanks." He tapped his credit chip against the young woman's tip bracelet twice, and she responded with a delighted smile.

"Thanks sir, it's an honor to serve you. We've been studying your career at the Academy."

"You're a cadet?"

"First year sir, I'm just working here during semester break. It's my hope to serve on the Enterprise some day."

"Well," Kirk fixed the young woman with his best Iowa farm boy smile, "if you're going to aim high, you'll have to study hard, and work harder."

"I will sir, thanks for the advice,...and speaking of work," she turned her attention to a bevy of young women who were settling themselves at the next table, "I guess I'd better get back to work. I'll be back around to check on your drinks."

Kirk watched the young woman walk away then turned his attentions to the new arrivals at the next table. It was barely six weeks since the incident with V'ger and he was still struggling to familiarize himself with his new crew, while simultaneously grappling with the steep learning curve of the updated and redesigned Enterprise.

"Good evening Admiral." The leggy blonde leaned forward, smiling seductively, and her companions quickly chimed in with a chorus of greetings. The woman seemed familiar, he had a vague memory of seeing her in Engineering, but he couldn't quite put a name with the face.

"Ladies," he responded with a grin, "are you enjoying your leave."

"Very much sir," a petite chestnut haired beauty responded, her dark eyes shifting to Spock and McCoy. "Isn't this place fantastic?"

"I believe it is hopping." Spock responded evenly.

"It's hopping?"

"I believe that is what I said Doctor."

Kirk busied himself pouring two shots of bourbon, and was surprised when Spock took the third glass poured a drink for himself.

"Is it just me" Kirk asked, lowering his voice, "or are most of the new female crewmembers…"

"Young enough to be your daughters?" Spock supplied before taking a cautious sip of the amber colored terran liquor.

"You're just on fire tonight Mr. Spock." Kirk returned crossly.

"On fire sir?" The Vulcan hoisted a bemused eyebrow and scanned his environs anxiously.

"Never mind!" Kirk sighed. "I was about to say, before I was so rudely interrupted, that most of our new female crewmembers are exceptionally attractive."

"You're reading my mind Jim," McCoy beamed then downed his shot. "Now that's what I call a drink. Admit it Spock, there's nothing like a shot of real Kentucky bourbon."

"It is far less unpleasant than I had anticipated." Spock remarked as he held out his empty glass for a refill.

"Have we driven you to drink Spock?" Kirk asked as he refilled the proffered glass.

"I am finding the concomitant dulling of the senses the alcohol provides logical, and I would add highly desirable, within the given parameters of this particular experience."

Unable to conjure a witty retort Kirk turned his attention back to the to the table behind them where three more attractive female ensigns were seating themselves. "Spock, even you have to admit that those are some of the finest looking women you've ever seen on a Starship."

Spock scrutinized the three women carefully for a few moments. "I will grant that they all share a certain… pleasant aesthetic quality, but I would not say that they are exceptionally attractive."

"Come on Jim, Spock's hardly the one to be judging your beauty contest," McCoy laughed heartily. "I don't think he considers any human female attractive."

"That is hardly the case doctor."

"Name one?"

"Doctor Chapel, she is by any standard a most attractive female."

"Just not attractive enough?"

"Doctor, I believe we have agreed not to revisit that topic."

"Sorry…you're right Spock."

"Hey Bones, if Spock's getting married then we need to throw him a bachelor party. I wonder where we can get a Vulcan stripper?"

"That is most thoughtful of you Jim, but I assure you it is also quite unnecessary."

"I still can't believe you're gonna marry a woman you've never even seen. What if she's uglier than a mud fence?"

"A mud fence?"

"I mean, well…don't you even care what she looks like?"

"Doctor," the Vulcan replied seriously as he refilled his glass, "when you married you were acquainted with your wife beforehand?"

"Well, seeing as how she was pregnant with Johanna I obviously knew her."

"And you found her to be an attractive female?"

McCoy's blue eyes softened. "She was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen… still is for that matter."

"You knew her…and she was aesthetically desirable, and yet the marriage did not endure?"

McCoy slumped back in his chair. "Point taken," he agreed begrudgingly.

"I appreciate that your concern for my 'happiness' is borne of friendship; but in a Vulcan mating the satisfaction of the partners is based on factors outside of the realm of human relationships."

"Another of our cultural differences." McCoy responded.

"The Vulcan bonding…" Spock hesitated a moment, feeling uncomfortable at the idea of sharing something so intimate with humans, but they were not just any humans, he reminded himself, they were his friends. Clearing his throat nervously he forced himself to continue.

"The bonding has come down to us from the earliest times. It is a complete joining of minds, it creates a perfect balance of understanding, and harmony necessary for two individuals to coexist in oneness.

"It is difficult to codify, I do not believe there is a direct equivalent within the human experience."

McCoy's grizzled features softened as he nodded his understanding.

The Vulcan was about to speak again when he caught sight of two fellow officers approaching from the other side of the dance floor.

"It appears Commander Scott and Lt Chekov are about to join us. Perhaps it would be prudent to secure additional alcohol." Spock rose from the table and moved toward the bar, acknowledging Scotty and Pavel as he passed.

Spock signaled the bartender, and then looked around the bar as he awaited his turn. The brightly colored lights and droning music seemed far less irritating now, no doubt the effect of the bourbon he'd consumed. The music, was raw, and as most things Deltan, blatantly sexual in its nature.

He closed his eyes as a faint, yet highly pleasurable feeling of desire washed over him. His Vulcan sensibilities demanded that he suppress the feeling, yet, perhaps bolstered by the influence of the alcohol, his human sensibilities forced him to let himself drift like a fallen leave within the warm sapphire blue current, as it became a raging river then without warning the river evaporated and he felt himself alone on the searing red sands of Vulcan.

"What can I get for you sir?"

"A bottle of Kentucky bourbon, a bottle of Scotch and a bottle of vodka."

The young man returned with three bottles on a tray. Spock added two glasses to the tray, then, recalling Jim's earlier actions with the young server he tapped his credit chip onto the tip monitor. He was just about to lift the tray when his eyes were inexplicably drawn to a blur of dark green silk moving on the dance floor.

A dark haired woman swayed seductively with the music, the green silk of the skimpy gown clinging invitingly to her lush curves. Her partner was moving eager hands purposefully down her back as he pressed himself against her, his face buried in the mass of shining dark curls spilling onto her creamy white shoulders.

Embarrassed, the Vulcan was just about to turn away from the pair when the man turned his female companion around, his hands now resting possessively on the soft swell of her abdomen as he pressed himself insistently against her backside.

Spock, oblivious to the other people on the crowded dance floor, moved through the crowd closing the distance between himself and the half dressed woman in six perfectly measured strides.

Christine Chapel sighed softly as her dance partner slowly spun her half way around and began trailing soft kisses down the back of her neck, while his facile fingers traced light circles around her waist. She moved her hands back over her head and raked her fingers through his thick wavy hair, aware, though beyond caring, that the movement would compromise the little modesty the front of her dress afforded. She was rewarded for her actions with a pleasured sigh from Eric Hanson, who thus encouraged allowed his hands to slowly move up Christine's rib cage.

Christine knew she should tell him to stop, but instead allowed herself another sigh of pleasure. Suddenly she felt Eric's hands stiffen, then drop away.

"Sir?"

Christine opened her eyes to find herself staring into the dark eyes of a grim faced Vulcan.

"Well Dr Chapel it would appear you are not wasting any time either."

He turned abruptly, then marched back through the crowds of dancers, leaving a stunned Christine Chapel in his wake.


	22. Chapter 22

"What the hell?" Nyota pushed through the crowded dance floor to Christine's side. "What was that about?"

Christine merely shook her head, still too stunned to speak.

"He came out of nowhere. I just looked up and he was stalking across the dance floor toward us. I know it's crazy but for a minuteI thought he was going to hit me. What about you…are you okay Chris?" Hanson pulled Christine toward him protectively. "Did he hurt you?"

"I'm…I'm fine." The color began to return to her pale face, and shock was swiftly morphing into full fledged adrenaline fueled fury. "Of all the pompous, presumptuous…who does the think he is anyway?"

"It's okay Chris." Hanson touched a gentle kiss to her cheek. "Let's get out of here."

"It's not okay!" Christine abruptly wrenched herself out of out of his soothing arms. "What in the hell is wrong with him?"

"Chris…" Hanson touched her arm gently.

"Look honey," Nyota patted her shoulder "It's not worth getting worked up over, just forget it."

"I'm not going to forget it Ny. That son of a bitch has been making my life miserable for six years." She moved swiftly through the crowd in the direction of his departure, with Eric Hanson and Nyota Uhura close on her heels.

Spock returned to find that Sulu, Rand and DeSalle had joined their party.

"Where's the hooch?" McCoy called out across the table.

Spock suddenly realized that he'd abandoned the tray with the liquor at the bar.

"I should have known better than to let a Vulcan make the booze run."

"I…am sorry doctor. I allowed myself to become distracted from my task."

McCoy stood and moved around the table toward the Vulcan, his eyes tinged with concern.

"Are you alright Spock?"

"I…I am unused to the effects of the alcohol, that is all," Spock responded stiffly, still struggling to regain his composure. "I shall return to the bar and retrieve our drinks."

"Hikaru was just telling us about a bonfire party down by the lake." But Kirk's enthusiasm was quickly dimmed as he noted Spock's sudden shift in mood.

"Many of the old crew will be there." Chekov added happily. "It will be like old times."

"Why don't you go on down there Jim, I think Spock and I will head back to the cabin?"

Kirk frowned peevishly. "You're bailing on me? I thought we were spending shore leave together?"

McCoy's eyes shifted anxiously and he leaned in close to Kirk, his voice a soft whisper. "I know Jim, but I don't like the way Spock's reacting to the bourbon. I think it would be better if the two of us pack it in for the evening."

"I can hear you doctor." Spock poured himself another shot of the dark bourbon, downing it in a single gulp as his companions watched in wonder.

Kirk's puzzled hazel eyes darted from McCoy to Spock and back to McCoy as if the doctor might have some explanation for the Vulcan's strange behavior. He was about to speak when his attention was drawn to a shapely dark haired woman closing in on them at a rapid pace. It took him several moments to realize that the stunning brunette in the sexy emerald green dress was Dr. Christine Chapel, with an equally stunning Nyota Uhrua scurrying close behind.

"Gentlemen, we have incoming," Kirk remarked with a grin as the pair drew closer, but his grin quickly dissipated as he saw the fiery look in Christine Chapel's blue eyes. It didn't take a rocket scientist, Kirk mused, to figure out that somehow the cause of Spock's sudden mood shift involved the dark haired doctor.

"You son of a bitch!" Chapel's normally gentle voice was as hard as durasteel as she closed in on her target. In a flash her flat hand took precise aim at his face, slapping the Vulcan quite soundly before he had a chance to react.

"Now that," she turned to Nyota smiling, "that was better than sex."

"Feel free to put me on report Admiral," she said evenly, then turned her attention to the rest of her friends. "As you were, enjoy the rest of your leave."

She turned to leave, then much to everyone's surprise turned back to face Spock again. She raised her right eyebrow with a mocking imperiousness worthy of a full blooded Vulcan she said simply. "Nice sweater."

Then turned again and disappeared into the crowd.

They stood for a few moments in uncomfortable silence no one quite certain of what they had just witnessed.

"Am I correct in assuming that there will be copious amounts of alcohol at this bonfire party by the lake?" the Vulcan asked no one in particular. After another short period of painful silence it was Sulu who answered.

"I believe that assumption would be correct sir."

Spock nodded tightly, "Then shall we proceed?"

On the other side of the club, Eric and Nyota caught up with Christine near the exit. Her face was pale and makeup tinged tears were streaming down her pink cheeks.

Nyota embraced her friend. "Don't cry sweetie, he's not worth it."

"I'm not crying for him Ny," Christine sobbed, "I think I broke my hand…how far is it to the med center?"


	23. Chapter 23

"Doctor's really do make the most godawful patients," Jeff Waller sighed as he dropped the chartpadd on the nurse's station. He'd been working almost sixteen hours without a was the first time the resort had hosted the entire crew of a starship and the apparently inexhaustible compliment of the Enterprise had set a new record for broken bones in Vista Angeles within the first hour of their arrival.

The freshfaced young nurse gave the handsome doctor an empathetic smile as she updated the chart.

"Is someone here with her?"

"The couple who brought her in are in waiting."

"Chapel?" he called impatiently out to the packed waiting room.

"Here." Nyota called over the rowdy crowd. "Is she going to be okay?"

"She's finishing up on a bone knitter right now…" the Dr. Waller's gruff bedside manor improved dramatically as he got a good look at the voluptuous communications officer. "Sorry about the wait Miss…"

"Lt. Commander," she corrected the sandy haired man with a sweet smile. "Uhura."

"Lt. Commander Uhura, I'm afraid we've been swamped with injuries tonight. Your crewmates appear to be an adventurous, although not a particularly judicious lot."

"But she'll be okay right?"

"She'll be fine, she's suffered three metacarpophalangeal fractures, two of her carpometacarpal were dislocated and there's some tendon damage. When I asked her what happened she said smacked a Vulcan."

"She did," Noyta responded with an amused laugh, "slapped him right across the face and not just any Vulcan, it was our First Officer, Commander Spock."

"You're kidding, she bitch slapped a legend. I would imagine that's a one way ticket to a court martial."

"He deserved it!" Ny protested defensively. "Being a legend and being an asshole aren't mutually exclusive."

"Sounds like an interesting story."

"Oh I can assure you it is.[Soft Break]

"Maybe it would be an even more interesting story shared over drinks?"

"Oh it think it would be considerable more interesting over drinks."

"I'm off duty in fifteen minutes."

"Oh, sugar I'd love that, but not tonight. I don't want to leave Christine alone."

"What if Christine wants to be left alone?" Christine walked out to the waiting room flexing her hand tentatively. "Nice work Dr. Waller. Do you think I'll be able to play the violin?"

"Could you play before?"

"No, Nyota will tell you I'm hopelessly unmusical."

"You're not that bad…"

"You're okay?" Eric returned to the waiting room with two cups of coffee.

"I'm fine." Chris assured him as she relieved him of one of the steaming cups. "I was half expecting to see a security team our here waiting for me."

"I just got a message from Riley, there's a big party down by the lake."

"I think I'm finished partying for tonight," Christine smiled, "I may be going before a firing squad in the morning so I'll need my beauty sleep. But you guys go ahead."

"I'm going back to the campsite with you.".

"I really don't need a babysitter Ny, it's shore leave for heaven's sake, you all go on."

"How about if I take you back to your campsite and get you settled in then I'll go on to the lake?" Hanson offered as he snaked his arm around Christine's slender waist. Nyota shot Christine a raised eyebrow at Hanson's sudden familiarity and Chapel's eyes quickly darted to Dr Waller then back to Nyota with a raised eyebrow of her own.

"If I let Eric take me back, will you go out and enjoy yourself Ny?"

"It would appear that I'm free tonight after all Doctor Waller, if you'd still like to hear that interesting story?"

"I'm very interested, and it's Jeff." He retrieved Chapel's chartpadd from the nurse's station and entered a series of numbers. "Dr. Chapel you are officially discharged. Word of advice, next time you pick a barfight with a Vulcan aim about three feet lower."

"Thanks, Dr Waller, I'll definitely keep that in mind for next time."

"You don't think the Captain will actually put you on report do you?"

"Maybe, I don't care if he does. It was absolutely worth it."


	24. Chapter 24

James Kirk closed his eyes, relishing the soft breeze as it washed over him transporting him, for a brief moment, to a starry summer night in Iowa. As much as he relished life on a Starship, at times he craved the sweet and simple pleasures of a full moon on a crystal clear summer night. The lakeside party was in full swing, he observed, as he moved thorough the animated crush of jubilant, and somewhat intoxicated, crew members.

The brass had certainly pulled out all the stops for this shindig; apparently no expenses were spared when you saved the entire planet from extinction. The ethereal mixture of cool silvery moonlight and the warm flickering firelight; coupled with the apparently unending flow of free liquor that the Fleet had so generously supplied, rendered a primitive, carnival like atmosphere to the gathering.

He wound his way through the throngs of revelers, responding to shouted greetings and making small talk until he found McCoy and Scotty at one of the many small tables which had been set up along the shore of the lake.

Kirk's hazel eyes anxiously scanned the nearby tables. "Where's Spock? You were supposed to be watching him?"

"Calm down 'mother' he's right over there with Chekov."

"You let him have a bottle of Romulan Ale?"

"It wasn't so much a question of 'let him have' as an agreement that I'd let go of the bottle and he wouldn't do that Vulcan neck thingy to me."

"Unbelievable, this may be the absolute worst shore leave of all time…and I once spent my entire shore leave in an Andorian holding cell." Kirk sighed and poured himself a generous glass of the pale blue ale. "So what the hell happened back there Bones?"

"I"ll be damned if I know Jim, your guess is as good as mine. I've never seen Christine like that; I honestly think if she'd had a phaser we'd be sweeping up the remains of our green blooded friend off of the dance floor."

"And did you see that dress? Not that there was that much of it to see. I had no idea she was hiding all of that under those baggy Fleet issued labcoats." Kirk felt a sudden tightness in his groin as the picture of the gamin doctor's pale creamy skin and how the filmy green silk had caressed her soft curves played over in his mind.

"You're not gonna put her on report are you Jim? This whole business with Spock has been hard enough on her…she doesn't need this following her for the rest of her career."

"Agreed, but if the two of them don't get this thing under control I'll have the pair of them on the next transport for Rhura Pente and let the damn Klingon's deal with it. The Enterprise is the Flagship of the Federation, not some galactic lonely hearts club."

"Did you see the look on his face when she smacked him?" McCoy grinned. "I wonder if we can get a holoprint off of the security video."

"Carol poured a pitcher of beer over my head… then she kneed me in the balls."

"Jocelyn set my entire collection of vintage bourbon on fire, ended up burning the whole house down."

"I thought you got the house in the divorce settlement?"

"What was left of it."

"At least she didn't steal your body."

"Janice…Lester, how could I forget, and she tried to have Spock court-martialed. When Tonia left she took a laser scalpel and cut the crotch out of every pair of pants I owned, including the pair I was wearing at the time…almost gave me a coronary."

"Lori… well suffice to say I won't be getting served at the Fleet Admiral's Club any time in this century."

McCoy's eyes softened, it was the first time Jim had mentioned Lori Ciani, his former wife, since she'd been killed during a transporter malfunction six weeks ago. McCoy knew that the marriage had not been a happy one, but her death still affected him. "

"That whole thing with Lori was just a mistake…right from the start. They took my ship, my crew…I was suddenly a fish out of water. I knew it wasn't right…for either of us. I broke her heart…and she returned the favor."

"Small wonder we can't broker peace with the Romulans or the Klingons. If we can't communicate with the people we claim to love, how are we ever going to find a common thread of understanding with our enemies?"

"You know Jim, they say that love and hate are two sides of the same coin."

"But how do you keep the coin from flipping the wrong way?"

"That, my friend, is the million credit question."

"My demure ACMO is instigating barfights, my prim and proper XO is sprawled out over there drunk on his Vulcan ass, and you and I are yammering on about our love lives like a couple of chicks in a cheesy holovid. I know how Dorothy must have felt waking up in Oz.

"I really hate to lose Chapel, especially after seeing her in that dress, but I think the sooner we get her off the ship the sooner we can put this disaster behind us and get back to work. I've got a few favors I can call in at Fleet…I'll make some calls first thing in the morning."

"So that takes care of Chrisine, what are we going to do about our boozing Tin Man over there?"

"Not much we can do Bones, except keep him away from the lake."

"The lake?"

"He can't swim."

"You're kidding me? How the hell did he get through survival training at the Academy without being able to swim?"

"Apparently Vulcans can't swim; something about their lungs and center of gravity. Starfleet waives the swimming requirement."

"Well has hard as he's hitting the 'oil can' tonight he's gonna have the mother of all hangovers in the morning."

"Do you think Spock's right?" Kirk asked as he surveyed his young crewmembers enjoying the festivities. "Are most of the crewwomen young enough to be my daughters?"

"It does seem like Decker went with a younger, less experienced crew."

"That wasn't the answer I was going for Bones." Kirk took a long drink of the foamy blue ale. "I wonder how Scotty got a hold of a case of Romulan Ale?"

"Somehow I've got a feeling it's better if we don't' know."


	25. Chapter 25

"I guess these shoes weren't exactly designed for roughing it." Christine Chapel conceded apologetically. She wriggled her ankle to pull the stiletto heel of the expensive shoes Nyota had insisted she buy from the soft ground.

"Yeah," Hanson agreed as he took an appraising look at the shoe, then allowed his gaze to travel up her long shapely leg. "They're not exactly Fleet reg, that's for sure." Hanson chuckled then offered his arm to help Christine regain her balance.

A soft breeze blew down from the hills above, cool and fragrant with cypress and pine. Eric removed his leather jacket and wrapped it around Christine's shoulders. "Thanks, I guess the dress wasn't designed for roughing it either."

"Probably not what the designer intended but you wear it well."

"I'm sorry about…you know all that mess back at the club. I've never done anything remotely like that before. I don't know what got into me. I can't imagine you were planning to waste your shore leave at the medcenter."

"Actually, it wouldn't be the first time I ended up in the ER during a shore leave."

"You're kidding?"

"What, you think you're the only one who can start a drunken bar fight? Well, I've never actually started one, but if someone messes with my guys I've got their backs. Although," he wrapped his arm around her, "I can't say I've ever had the guts to cold cock a Vulcan; that was pretty impressive."

"True, but seriously, how many times do you actually see a Vulcan in a bar? It sounds like a setup to a really awful joke…'so this Vulcan walks into a bar'."

"And says 'ouch'"

"Why would he say 'ouch'?"

"Because he walked into a bar, you figure that's gotta hurt right?"

"That's awful." She gave her companion a soft shove on his upper arm.

"You said it was the set up to a really awful joke."

"So I did, but I really am sorry to have spoiled your evening."

"I'm walking in the moonlight with my arm around a beautiful woman; I think this is the best shore leave of my entire life."

"This is it." Christine stopped at what appeared to be a sapling tree, but as she drew near he saw a small touchscreen appear on the side.

"There's a force field that comes on at sundown for privacy, and of course to keep the predators out. It certainly wouldn't do to have the Star Fleet mucketry mucks eaten by grizzly bears in their sleep. Seventeen oh one."

"Excuse me?"

"The passcode is one seven oh one, Nyota picked it, figured it would be easy to remember."

"But not very secure Lieutenant."

"Hey, if the bears can figure out the code they deserve a good meal."

"If I was a bear I think I'd save you for dessert. Let me get some more wood on the fire, it's starting to get a little chilly."

Christine snatched a small travel bag from beside her sleeping bag. I'd really appreciate that Eric. If you don't mind, I'm going to go change into something a little more suited to the untamed wilderness. There's a kettle and some bottled water if you want to make us some coffee."

Eric carried an armful of wood to the firepit, stacking the logs carefully until he was satisfied the fire was sufficient to last through the night. After filling the kettle he gingerly lowered the small cooking grate and positioned the kettle over the fire.

"There are some cups and instant coffee in the storage area under the table." Christine reappeared wearing a pair of faded jeans and a soft blue sweater. "I feel like Cinderella after the ball." She laughed as he handed her a steaming mug of coffee.

"At least you made it home with both shoes."

"And a prince too. Why don't we sit on my sleeping bag? There's some sort of heating element in the pads underneath, it is getting a bit chilly."

"It's so peaceful out here," Eric remarked as they seated themselves. "I can see why you chose it."

"I've always loved the outdoors, nature…I guess that's one of the perks of growing up outside of the grid. I think that seeing the intricacies of nature was what made me fall in love with science."

"I was eight years old the first time my family left the space station and came to earth to visit my grandparents. I was terrified of the outdoors, it all seemed chaotic and out of control, and the sunlight… I thought I was going blind."

"That's how I felt the first time I saw a transporter." Christine laughed. "We were standing in a long line and all I could see was that people would climb up to the platform and then disappear. My father's dig at the Roma Antiqua lost its funding when I was thirteen and he took a teaching position at the University in San Francisco. It was hard at first, getting used to the crowds and the noise…and the people were, I don't know more distant, less connected."

"I had an instructor at the Academy who believed that our increased involvement with technology has made us less human…less able to relate to others."

"Roger was obsessed with technology; he believed that the next wave of technology, would bring a seamless melding of man and machine."

"A human computer? I guess he never met a Vulcan."

"He didn't have much use for Vulcans…to be honest; he didn't have much use for any nonterran races."

"You'd be surprised how many people in Fleet feel the same way."

"I know, when Roger's friend Lance Cartwright would come for dinner the two of them would spend the whole evening going on and on about how the Vulcans were holding us back, and the Andorians couldn't be trusted, and how if we didn't destroy the Romulans and Kingons first they would destroy us."

"Lance Cartwright? Rear Admiral Lance Cartwright?"

"Yeah, he was Captain Cartwright back then. He and Roger were close friends growing up. He was very good to me when Roger was lost; in fact he was the one who got me the billet on the Enterprise when I found out they were going to Exo III."

"It must be nice having a friend in high places."

Christine shook her head sadly. "After Roger…when we didn't find Roger, Lance and I, well…we didn't really stay in touch. I don't believe he…approved of my career choices.

"Good heavens, how did we get on such a dreary subject? Your friends probably think you've been eaten by a bear."

"Knowing Riley, I doubt he's thinking much of anything by now." Eric laughed softly as he set his empty mug down on the ground beside him. Moving slowly he brushed his fingers through Christine's dark curls then every so gently pulled her face toward his and captured her lips in a long slow kiss.

Encouraged by her pleasured moan he moved his other hand around her gathering her in a tight embrace and boldly deepened the kiss. Christine found her own hands busy as they slid up his well muscled arms then down his the length of his back. She shivered as the cool evening air briefly brushed her lower back then warm gentle hands moved up underneath her soft cotton sweater. The pounding of her heart grew more insistent, drowning out the soft cracking sound of the fire.

"I've wanted this…" he whispered his voice hoarse and heavy with desire, "I've wanted you Christine… for so long."

Christine tensed, a hard tight knot beginning to form in the pit of her stomach. "I'm sorry Eric, I can't…" she protested weakly.

His kisses grew deeper and more insistent as he tenderly eased her onto her back, her protest giving way to the growing flame of physical desire burning between them. But the knot grew tighter and Christine struggled to find her voice.

"No Eric, stop!" Wedging her hands between them she gave him a hard shove. "I mean it Eric, get off of me!"

He moved off of her and she scrambled backwards putting some distance between them. Christine studied his face in the softly flickering firelight, a mixture of hurt and anger evident in his green eyes.

"I'm sorry Eric. I shouldn't have let things get that far."

"No I'm the one who should be apologizing Chris, that was really insensitive of me. You've been through a lot tonight; you're probably exhausted. Why don't we settle in for the night and get some sleep. Maybe in the morning we can pick up where we left off."

Christine pulled her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around her long legs.

"I really am sorry Eric. You're a great guy."

"I hear a 'but' coming."

"It's me Eric…I'm just not ready for something like this."

"Chris, I love you."

"Eric, you don't even know me.

"It's Commander Spock isn't it, this is about him."

"No! Well maybe," she sighed, "but not in the way you're thinking."

"You were using me to make him jealous."

"That's crazy. Vulcans don't feel jealousy, they don't feel anything. It's taken me a long time to finally figure that out." Christine pushed herself up off of the ground. "I really do like you Eric, you're a great guy with a lot to offer the right woman, and I'm just not that woman right now."

Eric scrambled to his feet, clearly agitated. "So that's it? You won't even give us a chance?"

"There is no 'us' Eric, how can I make you understand that?"

"Oh I understand Dr. Chapel, I understand perfectly."

Christine was suddenly anxious at the bitter rage in his voice. "Lieutenant Hanson," she said mustering her best command voice "I think it would be best if you leave now." Underscoring the command she picked up his coat and handed it to him.

"Gladly!" He responded as he slipped on the leather jacket. He turned away from her toward the path, then unexpectedly spun back around and seized the empty coffee cup.

"Thanks for the coffee." He said his voice like ice, as he slammed the mug into the firepit where it exploded into confetti like shower of cinders and ceramic shards.

Without another word he stalked off into the woods leaving a shaken Christine Chapel wondering how her life had become this nightmarish rollercoaster ride, and how on earth she was going to get herself back on solid ground.

Using some pieces of scrub brush from the kindling pile she fashioned a makeshift boom and swept the remains of the mug into the fire pit, then rinsed out the other mug and stowed away the coffee and water in the stasis box. She made a brief survey of the campsite. Everything appeared to be secure; Eric had built a good fire that would be more than sufficient for the night.

Christine flexed her right hand gingerly and checked her chrono. She was overdue for another dose of paid medication. Dropping down on her sleeping bag she fished inside her travel pack for her personal medkit. She filled the hypo spray with 5 ccs of percon, when the small vial of dormiene Dr. Walker had given her caught her eye. It had been a week since she'd had an actual night of real sleep. She wasn't on call, and from the way she'd seen Dr Waller and Nyota looking at each other it was unlikely that her friend would be returning before morning.

"If anyone deserves eight hours of uninterrupted sleep Christine Chapel it's you," she laughed as she added 20 ccs of the potent Deltan sleep potion to the hypo spray.

Grabbing a t shirt from her travel pack she climbed into the oversized sleeping bag and removed her jeans and sweater, rolling them up and placing them on the grass nearby. She burrowed down into the warm dark comfort of the down bag, curling up like a child returning to the womb. A curious sensation swept over her. She was lying on a warm sandy beach, the ocean tide washing over her, each gentle wave bringing peace, and carrying away her cares until all that remained was sweet oblivion.


	26. Chapter 26

"I myself have always found astrophysics particularly fascinating." Kirk leaned in seductively, flashing the curvy young Ensign what Bone's referred to as the 'James T Kirk aw shucks Iowa farm boy smile'. It was his secret weapon, and he'd yet to meet a female of any species who was immune to its spell. "I've always been attracted to heavenly bodies."

The young woman leaned closer, treating Kirk to a tantalizing glimpse of her ample breasts, and the seductive smile played across her lush full lips sent a shiver of delight down his spine. "You were going to tell me about the time you killed the salt vampire."

"I don't want to bore you with more stories about my exploits," Kirk responded, impressed that he'd been able to achieve a tone that even he found somewhat credible." I want to know more about you."

The young woman responded with a disappointed pout. "Please?' she pleaded her amber eyes wide, "I remember our teacher telling us that story when I was in high school and we all thought it was so cool."

"High school?" Kirk sank back dismayed wondering how he'd managed to age several decades in the space of five minutes, and suddenly feeling incredibly foolish. "I really need to get back to my friends right now, maybe some other time."

Kirk worked his way through the raucous throngs of eager fresh faced young men and doe eyed, nubile, young women dancing in the warm flickering light from the bonfire. Was it possible that his Vulcan First Officer was right? At forty two he was indeed old enough to have fathered many of his young crew.

_David_…as always thoughts of his son were bittersweet. The boy would be almost twelve now; very soon he would be coming into his own manhood. Kirk had begrudgingly conceded the logic of Carol's choice to raise the boy on her own, yet he still felt regret at that decision. He sighed; it wasn't as though she'd really given him much choice in the matter. Spock would tell him that there was no logic in dwelling on what cannot be changed, but still there were fleeting moments when he wondered if he could have gone after Carol, could have made a family with their son.

Down at the edge of the lake he found McCoy and Scott conversing with Kevin Riley, and another young officer he recognized as Lt. Eric Hanson from Engineering.

"Sir," Hanson snapped to attention as the Admiral approached.

"At ease Mr. Hanson, we're all on liberty tonight. Why don't you have a seat and join us for a drink. It's a pleasure to see some of the old crew from the last mission. I'm starting to feel like a dinosaur here."

"Thanks." Hanson smiled as Kirk poured him a cup of Romulan Ale.

"What is that godawful noise?" Kirk asked as he refilled his own glass. "It sounds like someone threw a cat out of an airlock."

"Worse," the doctor grumbled nodding his head toward the figure sprawled on the grass about ten meters away. "Near as Scotty and I can make out, it's the Vulcan version of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star."

"You let him have another bottle of Romulan Ale? Have the two of you lost your minds?"

"We tried to stop him Admiral, we really did, " Scotty said shaking his head, "but he's powerful strong."

"I can't believe he's still conscious." McCoy added ruefully. "Between the bourbon and the ale he should be comatose. Maybe you can talk some sense into him Jim. I tried, and he just cursed at me and went back to drinking."

"He cursed at you?"

"Well, my Vulcan is pretty rusty, but according to Scotty, he suggested a highly unorthodox medical procedure involving myself and the warp coils."

"Very disrespectful it was Admiral," Scotty interjected, his voice quivering with offense, "those are the finest warp coils in the entire fleet." Seeing McCoy's frown he continued, "and of course doctor, it was most disrespectful of your ass as well."

Kirk shook his head and downed his glass of Romulan Ale. The final votes were in; it was now officially the worst shore leave of all time.

Spock lay back on the softly sloping hillside and allowed the sweet soothing cocoon of numbness to engulf him. He stared in childlike fascination at the sparkling canopy of stars and planets glistening like diamonds against the blue black velvet sky.

"A star is a ball of burning gas," he chided himself at the illogical lapse into such uncharacteristic poetic imagery; "a diamond is crystalline carbon."

He pondered upon the differences between diamonds and stars for a few more moments, then took another drink from the bottle of Romulan Ale, taking pleasure in the gentle respite it granted from his tumultuous thoughts.

Strange, but he'd always considered it most illogical that humans sought refuge from their troubles by anesthetizing themselves with primitive drugs like alcohol, but at the moment the Vulcan logic of eschewing such human rituals seemed less certain.

He looked again to the stars, and felt the swell of the pain of a lonely young boy; a child of two worlds, but at home in neither. He had dreamed then of a place where he would not have to be human or Vulcan, where he would just be Spock, and understood that his path lay somewhere among those sparkling lights. How simplistic and foolish his thoughts had been, that he would somehow be able to broker a peace between the two warring factions of his hybrid nature.

Another vision of the heavens stole across his mind. He and Christine making love against a wall of stars, human and Vulcan they had moved as one complete, perfect being.

"Kaiidith!" he railed angrily to the night sky. By now Sarek would have received his comm and the preparations for the bonding would be initiated. He puzzled for a moment as he tried to compose an image of how a fence of mud might appear, and how a Vulcan female could in any way resemble such a fence. Perhaps it would be in his best interest to secure an English dictionary for the good doctor in the interest of facilitating better communication.

"_Just not attractive enough."_

Why were McCoy's earlier words still eating at him? He bristled at the the thinly veiled implication that he had passed judgment on Christine and had in some way deemed her lacking, that there had been an actual choice on his part in this matter. He might try to achieve some balance within himself, but his Vulcan biology and upbringing held considerable purchase on his choice of a mate. Why couldn't McCoy understand that?

His bonding would be a logical matter, his mate chosen by the family to be a suitable wife to be joined to so noble a house. He would return to Vulcan where they would formalize the bonding, and then they would each return to their individual lives until the ancient drive of the pon farr called them together to mate. Hopefully the ancestors would bless them with a child, and his duty to his clan would be fulfilled. His mate, as the Tradition dictated, would remain on Vulcan to raise the child and he would return to Starfleet.

But, he wondered anxiously, what if his bondmate wished to consummate the bond immediately? It was not uncommon, for bonded couples to engage in relations outside of the time. His own parents shared one bed. Certainly she would not expect him to... be with her in that way? No, there was no point thinking about it now. He would have to find a way to convey his expectations to her before the bonding.

"Are you okay Spock?"

"I am well Admiral, and yourself?"

"Actually, I've been better."

The Vulcan attempted to sit up, but was seized with an overwhelming dizziness that only partially abated when he returned to a reclining position.

"Perhaps it would be better if you sit down Jim."

"I think you've had enough to drink."

"I am uncertain of the formula used to arrive at that conclusion, but I believe there is a strong possibility that you are correct." he responded before sitting up to finish off the bottle of ale and lying back down on the grass.

"Look Spock, this thing with you and Chapel…I'm going to make a few calls in the morning and see what I can do about getting her something at HQ. I want this to be settled before we leave orbit."

"I believe that would be prudent. I…I did not intend for her to be hurt Jim. I did not adequately consider the consequences of my actions."

"I know Spock." Kirk sighed. "And I think on some level she knows that too. Things…happen. How about if Bones and I get you back up to the cabin?"

"Unnecessary sir. I am quite capable of returning myself to our quarters." He struggled to his feet and handed Kirk the empty bottle. "You and the doctor should stay and enjoy the rest of your evening."

"Are you sure you can make it?"

"Do not concern yourself sir. I believe I shall be able to conduct myself back up the trail to the transporter pods without incident. Good evening."

With that the Vulcan proceeded slowly up the hill toward the dirt trail.

Eric Hansen struggled to suppress his anger as he watched Kirk rejoin the group. How could a warm, caring woman like Christine Chapel turn him down in favor of a man with green ice water in his veins and a computer for a heart? Women were all alike, he mused bitterly; sure they all said they wanted the nice guy with the great sense of humor, but it was all bullshit.

"Mr. Spock is calling it a night." Kirk said as he sat down at the table. "Mr. Riley, perhaps you might want to think about packing it in as well. Can you make it back up the hill?"

"I'll walk him back up." Hanson volunteered, "I'm about done in myself."

"Come on Kev, let's get going, and I'm telling you right now, if you start singing on the way back to the lodge I'm gonna pop you."

"What's wrong with me singin' boyo?"

"Everything Riley, fucking everything."[Soft Break]

"Everyone's a critic." Riley frowned.

"Admiral, doctor, Mr. Scott, enjoy your evening."

Hanson fastened his leather jacket against the evening chill, pleasantly aroused by the heady mixture of the musky leather and the faint scent of Christine's perfume clinging to the garment. But his desire was swiftly trumped by his alcohol fueled anger, each tender thought of her met with reciprocal rage at how she'd dismissed him and his feelings out of hand, refusing to give him a chance.

"My wild Irish rose…" They had been barely twenty minutes along the trail when Riley's off key caterwauling began.

"Fuck Riley, I told you if you started singing I was gonna pop you one." True to his word, Hanson took a swing, but Riley saw it coming just in time to duck out of the way. The force of the swing threw Eric off balance and sent the young man sprawling down a rocky incline.

Eric felt a sharp pain as his head made contact with a series of rocks on the way down. He lay still for a few moments trying to gather his wits while he made a quick mental inventory of his injuries. All of his limbs appeared to be sore but functional, no broken bones, his head hurt, but there was no blood.

"Son of a Denebian slime worm," he muttered angrily. He'd managed to get himself up on all fours when he heard a low moan beside him.

"What the…Riley"

"You okay Hansen?' Riley called from above.

"I'm okay, but there's somebody down here… damn it, get down here and give me a hand."

Riley's ungraceful descent brought a shower of small rocks followed by the thud of one hundred eighty pounds of drunken Irishman hitting the ground beside Eric Hansen.

"You have a lumi?"

Riley dug around in his pockets for a moment before producing the small silver cylinder. He shone the light on the crumpled form beside him and immediately recognized Commander Spock.

"Commander!" Eric shook the Vulcan vigorously. "Are you okay?"

"I am well, thank you… though I am feeling somewhat chilled. I believe there may be some sort of malfunction with the environmental controls, perhaps you could contact Engineering?"

"Commander, we're not on the ship sir. You appear to have suffered a fall. I need to ascertain if you have any injuries.

The Vulcan slowly rose to a seated position, clutching the overgrown plant life nearby to ward off the feeling that his surroundings were spinning out of control.

"I am…uninjured." He whispered before passing out again.

"Is he okay?"

"Yeah. Come on Riley, we've got to get him up the hill?"

"Can't we just leave him here til morning?"

"It's too damn cold, especially for a Vulcan. He'd freeze out here before morning. We're gonna have to haul his ass up the hill and get him back to his cabin."

"Are you serious Hansen? That's ten miles from here."

"There's a pair of transporter pads about four miles from here. We can just get him to there and port him to the main lodge and let them get him back to his cabin. Come on, get around to the other side of him and grab him around the waist. Yeah like that. Okay on the count of three. One, Two, Three up we go."

With considerable effort they dragged Spock up to top of the incline, then taking turns they carried him along the moonlit trail.

"Absolute worst shore leave of all damned time." Hanson muttered. "And I swear to God Riley, if you start singing I'm gonna take a phaser to the both of you and tell Fleet you were eaten by bears.

It was almost two hours later when Eric spotted the faint light from Christine's campfire. He paused for a moment to catch his breath.

"Are we there?" Riley asked hopefully. "I'm not sure how much longer I can carry him."

"I don't think we'll be carrying him much farther at all." Hanson smiled as the seed of an idea took hold. Scanning the darkness he found what he sought. Moving toward the small stand of sapling trees he waved his hand until the touch screen presented itself.

"Seventeen Oh One."

"What?"

"Bring him over here."

"What are we doing?" Riley questioned as he dragged the unconscious Vulcan to the campsite.

"Teaching someone a lesson."

"We're gonna leave him here?"

"Yeah, over here." They dropped Spock next to Christine's sleeping bag. "By noon tomorrow half the crew will be talking about how Dr. High and Mighty Chapel spent the night with the First Officer."

"Whatever. Where's that transporter you told me about?"

"Just up the path another fifty meters."

"Let's go, DeSalle has an all night poker game going at the lodge."

Spock opened his eyes surveying his surroundings. His head throbbed and his body ached with the cold. In the soft flickering of the fire light he saw the sleeping bag a few feet away. With considerable effort he pulled off his boots and jeans, slipped off his sweater and climbed into the warm dark refuge before once again surrendering to the darkness.


	27. Chapter 27

The sky was cloudless and intensely blue, so utterly, perfectly, blue. Christine stretched out her limbs and allowed her body to float up through the warm salty water of the Bay of Salerno.

"Christine, sweetheart, lunch is ready." She smiled at the sweet sound of her mother's voice calling to her from along the shore.

She allowed herself the indulgence of just a few more moments of pleasure as the warm current washed over her.

"_Andiamo__bambina,__pranzo._"

"Vengo mama," she called dutifully as she started swimming languidly toward the bonfire her father had built on the deserted beach. Her stomach grumbled in anticipation at the tantalizing aroma of the fish they'd caught earlier that morning cooking on the makeshift grill.

"Bambina?"

"I'm coming mama," she called back, though it suddenly seemed as though she was actually getting farther away from the beach. With a growing sense of panic she pushed herself to swim harder toward the sound of her mother's voice, yet in spite of her efforts the shore appeared to be moving farther and farther away.

The sparkling blue water grew thick and heavy like quicksand and the muscles of her long slender limbs contracted in protest of the strain as she struggled frantically to keep from being pulled under. Above her the tranquil ultramarine blue sky surrendered to the encroaching blackness until Christine's entire world was swallowed up in absolute darkness.

She was suddenly aware of a crushing pressure in her chest which made it difficult to breathe, and a fresh stab of panic tore through her as she realized she was unable to move her left arm or leg.

"_Focus__Christine!"_ From somewhere deep inside a stern authoritative voice took command of her senses. She was not in the water…dreaming, she'd been sleeping…sleeping bag…camping…yes, bits and pieces were filtering thought the fog as she attempted to shake off the effects of the Deltan sleep potion and assess what was happening.

"_Symptoms__Dr. Chapel?"_ the voice commanded.

"_Thirty three year old__terran __female,__presenting with__crushing__chest pain,__numbness and paralysis of the left hand and arm…these__were classic symptoms of a heart attack, or possibly a stroke.'_

"_Treatment?"_

"_Cardivex, one__20cc__hypospray__would stop the attack and dissolve the blockage."_ Damn, why had she left the ship without at least an emed kit? Her situation was grave to say the least. She was alone in the wilderness and the nearest campsite was at least five miles away.

"_Don't panic Christine, stay calm and think!" _ the voice commanded. "_You'll have to summon help."_

If she could get to her communicator, she could call for an emed team to be beamed here within minutes. Somehow she had to get out of the sleeping bag and get to the travel bag where she'd stowed her communicator. One thing was certain, if she couldn't get help, and soon, she was going to die here.

"What the hell?" she tensed at the sharp and unmistakable sound of snoring cut through the darkness. Apparently she was not alone after all. With a renewed sense of panic she fumbled in the darkness with her free hand, exploring the heavy, and decidedly male, mass crushing against her chest and arm.

"Son of a…Eric," she shoved her hand hard against his side. "Wake up! Of all the...macho, asinine, who the hell to you think…get up. Now, I mean it get off of me!"

Christine was momentarily relieved as her companion shifted onto his side allowing her more room to breathe and freeing her trapped arm and leg. Her limbs tingled uncomfortably as the blood flow returned feeling to the deprived limbs. Her concerns quickly shifted from obtaining medical assistance, to fury at the slumbering interloper who had invaded her personal space. A second wave of panic swept over her as she hastily examined herself to make certain that the invasion had not been physical, and was relieved to find no evidence of any sort of sexual contact.

"Wake up!" She demanded furiously, punctuating her command with a hard shot to the ribs for make her point. "You have exactly five seconds to get your ass out of this sleeping bag mister!"

"Please lower your voice Dr. Chapel" a raspy baritone voice groaned, "I have a splitting headache."

"Spock?"

"Go back to sleep Christine."

"What the hell are you doing in this sleeping bag?"

"I am attempting to sleep Doctor, but I must say that you are making that pursuit a most daunting one with your chattering."

"My chattering? You… good heavens you smell like a distillery…have you been drinking?

"As part of my shore leave experience I have indulged in the consumption of a certain amount of alcohol."

"Your shore leave experience? For the last time, get up… wait, are those your hands under my shirt? Ohmigod they are! Have you lost your mind!" She pummeled him with tightly clenched fists until he finally stirred and begrudgingly withdrew his hands

"My hands were cold."

"Get some damn gloves you…gods of every universe," she moaned with unveiled disgust, "and for the love of heaven pal, stand down the missile."

"The missile?"

"Unless that's a banana in your pocket."

"I am wearing fleet issue briefs Christine, they do not have pockets, and even if they did have pockets, I cannot imagine carrying fruit in..."

"Arghhh. Why are you here?"

"Why are any of us here Christine? That is a question every culture…ooff…that hurt, you have very boney elbows!"

"Let me rephrase, why are you, Spock last name beyond the limits of my epiglottis, here in my sleeping bag?"

"I do not know. I thought perhaps you brought me here?"

"Get over yourself! Why on earth would I bring you here?"

"You did previously express a desire to engage in coitus in the out of doors."

"Yeah, well that was before I found out that I was just the warm up act for your little Vulcan fiancée. And by the way where is she? I can't imagine that she'd appreciate having her husband to be in a sleeping bag with some _qomi_ female."

Spock sighed. "I assume you are making reference to Saavik, the young woman who arrived at my quarters the other day when you bolted from the room like a rabid le matrya. Had you demonstrated better manners I would have introduced you to her. She is under the protection of my family and I am her mentor…nothing more. She was gracious enough to bring my personal belongings from Vulcan on her way back to her classes at the Academy."

"Maybe you should save the lecture on manners for some time when you're not half naked in my damn sleeping bag."

"I must say Doctor, I am disturbed by the recent incursion of so many, shall we say, colorful metaphors, into your speech."

Christine shook her head and sighed. "Right… because of all the crap that's been going on with us the most 'disturbing' thing is my use of 'colorful metaphors'. Unbelievable! I'm amazed you can actually sit down with that Vulcan logic stick so far up your…"

"Doctor!"

"Nose. Now, utilizing my very best manners, I would like to respectfully request that you get your green ass out of my sleeping bag."

"It is too cold…and, to be truthful, I am not exactly certain of where my clothing might be located."

"Okay, fine…I'll get up. Just let me say, this is unequivocally, without a doubt, the absolute, rock bottom, worst shore leave of all time!"

"That much, Doctor, is certain."

"Okay, the opening is on your side so we need to switch places. I'm going to climb over you and then you can sort of roll under me to the other side. Just keep your…body parts… to yourself."

Christine scrambled over the Vulcan and unfastened the magnetic closure of the sleeping bag.

"Big green baby," she muttered under her breath as the first burst of chilly morning air raised goose bumps on her bared skin. The fire was almost burned down to embers; she noted as she scanned the area around her sleeping bag for the clothing she'd worn the night before. Shivering, she quickly slipped into the jeans and sweater, and then turned her attention to rebuilding the fire, and starting some coffee.

The first rays of morning sun were breaking at the eastern horizon, the effusive warm strands of sunlight flowing into the deep indigo night. It was breathtaking, and for a moment Christine was overcome with a sense of perfect oneness with the universe.

"Who is Eric?"

Christine spun around to find the Vulcan's head poking out of the quilted down bag, his stern features almost comically demonic in the flickering light from the campfire. So much for oneness with the universe she mused bitterly.

"What?"

"You called me Eric."

She took a long drink from her coffee mug, fixing him with an icy glare. Stalking toward him, she snatched up his clothing and threw it at him angrily.

"Put your clothes on and get out of here."

"I am feeling somewhat…indisposed."

"It's called a 'hangover', how much did you have to drink last night?"

"I did not think to log my intake. Some brandy, something called bourbon…and several bottles of Romulan Ale."

"I thought Roluman ale was banned within Federation space?"

"Apparently Commander Scott was able to procure a case."

"Hold on, I've got some antitox in my bag. Here, sit up." She pressed the small metal cylinder against his bicep. "Give that about ten minutes and the headache and dizziness should be gone. I'm going to take a quick sonic shower and change. There's a pot of coffee on the fire pit if you want some."

Spock slipped into his jeans and sweater as he waited for the hypospray to ease the incessant pounding in his head. Much of the past twelve hours was a blur, his memory disjointed fragments he struggled to piece together.

He filled a mug with some hot coffee and huddled close to the fire. He could recall, quite clearly, dining in town with Jim and McCoy. He remembered leaving the restaurant to go to a nearby club that Sulu had suggested. They had consumed more alcohol there, but then something had happened, something unpleasant, though the precise memory was elusive, stealthily skirting the edge of his consciousness.

They'd left the club; he had a vague memory of walking for some time in the cool night air. Clear, the night had been incredibly clear and pleasant, and he recalled the silvery terran moon at full cycle lighting their path to...where?

Where had they gone after the club? Water? He had a strange memory of McCoy standing over him, a scowl plastered across his weathered face as he sternly elicited an agreement that Spock would stay away from the water. The lake, bits of it were coming back now, they'd gone to a party along the shore of the lake. Commander Scott had been there, along with the case of contraband Romulan ale.

For some reason he had been singing, though he was at a loss for what circumstance could have precipitated such an action, and Jim, he remembered talking with Jim, and then… nothing. How had he ended up here with Christine? And where, for that matter, were the Admiral and Dr McCoy?

"Are you feeling better?"

He looked up to find Christine beside him pouring herself another cup of coffee. She raised a questioning eyebrow and at his nod refilled his cup as well.

"You are alone here?" He said, eying the second sleeping bag.

"I came with Nyota, but she…well she ended up with other plans."

"I see."

"I know it feels counterintuitive, but if you eat a little something it will help the nausea. I've got some fruit, and I can toast some bread over the fire."

"That would be most kind," he said, nodding gently. A puzzled frown crossed his lips and his hand moved to his cheekbone. His dark eyes suddenly grew wider.

"You hit me."

"As a matter of fact I did."

"Why?"

"Because you were being a horse's ass." She responded unapologetically as she arranged several slices of bread on the cooking grate.

"You were mating with a man in public." The Vulcan's peevish frown deepened as the memory came flooding back to him. "It was quite unseemly."

"We were dancing, and what business is it of yours what I do or who I do it with?"

"His name was Eric?"

"Well aren't you just a regular Sherlock Holmes. Yes, his name is Eric, and again it's not any of your business."

"You mated with him?"

"For the last time it's none of your business and if you're going to stay for breakfast, I think we need to keep our conversation limited to things like the weather and sports."

"I am not conversant regarding sports."

"I didn't 'mate' with him." She said softly as she turned her attention back to the firepit. Using twigs from the kindling pile as makeshift tongs; Christine removed the toast from the fire and placed it on a plate with some dried fruit.

"The temperature appears to be warming." He offered timidly.

Christine laughed appreciatively. "Yes, I believe that it will be a pleasant day. Nyota and I planned to go hiking later. What about you?"

"I am uncertain as to our recreational agenda for the day. I believe there is an outdoor meal of some sort down by the lake."

Christine nodded, "I heard there was a big party down there last night."

Spock nodded. "It was 'hopping'"

"Hopping?"

"Indeed, from the bits I recall, everyone appeared to be having an enjoyable experience."

"And did you have an enjoyable experience?"

"I do not have sufficient data regarding my participation in the event to make an objective judgment."

"Yeah, that Romulan ale is pretty potent stuff; you should probably have a neural scan when you get back to the ship to make sure you don't have any brain damage.

"I still don't understand how you ended up here? This place is miles from the lake, and the path is hard to find even in the daylight. Not to mention, how did you get through the forcefield?"

"It is most puzzling to me as well."

"I can't believe that Kirk and McCoy let you wander off in that condition. Next time you three go out drinking you should all wear GPS patches so you can track each other down."

"I can assure you, there will not be a next…"his eyes widened in shock, as if he'd seen a ghost.

"Are you okay?" Christine leaned forward anxiously. "You're white as a sheet."

"What would you estimate the chances are that I would be wandering this entire facility, and end up here, at this precise campsite with you?"

"Not a clue," she responded warily, "I leave statistics and probability to Engineering."

"I would estimate the probability of such an occurrence at approximately one in seven million three hundred seventy six thousand four hundred and nine."

"Approximately?"

"There are some variables that can't be precisely calculated Christine."

"So, you're saying it's like I won a giant lottery, but instead of winning millions of credits, or an all expense paid trip to the Risan Pleasure Dome, I got a snoring Vulcan in my sleeping bag?"

"Vulcans do not snore Christine, but that is not my point."

"Oh good, there's a point."

"Christine, you know the bond between a Vulcan male and his mate is a complete joining of mind and soul."

"Yes, thank you, I believe you've covered that pretty clearly already."

"When physically separated, a Vulcan male is capable of tracking his mate, over thousands of miles, regardless of his physical state, regardless of the terrain, regardless of any impediment even a force field. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"No I don't?"

"Christine, there can be only one logical explanation for how I came to be here despite such overwhelming odds. You are my mate."


	28. Chapter 28

"What the…" Christine rose slowly to her feet keeping a wary eye on the Vulcan as she anxiously attempted put some physical distance between them.

"Damn it! Why didn't I bring a tricorder? Mr. Spock, Romulan ale is a class two neurotoxin; it's been shown that excessive exposure can cause serious brain damage in some humanoid species. I need to get you to a hospital where they can run some brain scans."

"Sit down Christine," he frowned impatiently. "My brain is functioning quite well, thank you."

"You think I'm your mate?" She said as she reclaimed her seat by the fire.

"I believe that is what I said Christine. I see no other logical explanation for what has transpired."

"Seriously, that's the logical explanation? I'd hate to think of what the illogical explanation might be."

"It is said that once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth."

"Look Spock, I can't possibly be your mate, in case you haven't noticed I'm not Vulcan."

"I am aware of that Christine; it is both unnecessary and unproductive to state the obvious."

"Well excuse me, but in my experience you occasionally miss the obvious."

"I shall assume from your tone you would care to elaborate?"

"I would not care to elaborate. I'm not wasting one more drop of 'emotion' on this cosmic joke of a relationship."

"I do not understand the usage of the word joke in this context? A joke is a story with a humorous climax, yet I am not able to perceive the humorous climax to which you refer."

"Maybe I'm approaching this from the wrong direction? I've been assuming that you're the one who's gone crazy, but what if it's me? Maybe this is all some wacky hallucination brought on by the Deltan sleeping medication? That's it, that's the logical explanation"

Christine rose again and began pacing in front of the firepit.

"It makes perfect sense. I'm in that sleeping bag sound asleep and you…you're off somewhere schtupping your little Vulcan girl friend."

"Schtupping?"

"Fucking, screwing, porking, making the beast with two backs, sex you moron…. how long have you been living among humans and you still have such limited knowledge of English? I know what I'm getting you two for a wedding gift, the biggest dictionary I can find."

"Christine your language…"

"If you don't like my language then get out of my hallucination."

"I have already explained to you that Saavik and I are not…involved in the way you suggest."

"Aww waiting for the wedding night, that's so sweet."

"I am finding this discussion most unproductive. Given your previous declarations of affection, I would have expected more enthusiasm at this turn of events."

"Do you have a hand phaser?"

[Soft Break]"No, why?" He rose anxiously from the ground.

"I was just thinking, maybe if I kill you the dream will end and I'll wake up and everything will be back to normal? I think I saw that once in a holovid."

"Christine, we are not in a dream. If this were in fact your dream, would I sentient?"

She stared at him for a long moment. "'Well of course the hallucination is going to say it's real…. I think I saw that in the holovid too. You're trying to confuse me."

Spock sighed. "One thing is becoming clear; you still feel anger toward me."

"I do!" she snapped, then slowly sat back down on the grass. "I…I do. I told my self I was past it but I'm not. I tried to understand what happened with us on an intellectual level, but on an emotional level…I still feel so hurt, so betrayed, so angry. Maybe that's what this is all about. Some part of me, needing to vent the pain I was feeling.

"That's it, you're a genius...although, technically, if you're my hallucination then really I'm the genius right?

"Well anyway here goes. Yes, Mr. Spock I still feel anger for how you acted. Even thought it's illogical I still feel it. But I think I'm even angrier with myself…because even though my mind accepts that it's completely hopeless, I'm…I'm still in love with you. You're going to move on to your perfect life with your young Vulcan wife and have a home and a family. And I'm terrified that I'll never find a way to get over you…that I'll just keep drifting until…until it's too late for me."

Christine buried her head in her arms and sobbed for a few moments, before slowly getting herself back under control.

"Damn, you're still here?"

"Where would I have gone?"

"I was sure that angsty epiphany would be enough to wake me up."

Spock sighed, leaning back against one of the warmed stones that framed the firepit. "I see I have my work cut out for me. I am not an hallucination, and you are not dreaming Christine.

"I can not explain the mechanism that has brought this about, I can only say that logic tells me that you are my mate, it is a fact, and I must admit I find that fact to be eminently agreeable."

"You told me you wanted a Vulcan wife."

"I believed then that my obligations to my family would be met most efficiently by taking a Vulcan mate."

"You believed then, but now?"

"I have come to understand that taking the most efficient path is not always the correct choice."

"So you would find me an 'agreeable" mate?"

"I believe I said eminently agreeable."

"So you did. I'm sorry, this is all very puzzling to me right now?"

"I am finding it most unexpected as well."

"It's just all too, much, too fast. Even if I believed what you're saying I might still love you I'm not sure I'm ready to trust you again."

"That is understandable; I am willing to do whatever you deem necessary to regain your trust."

"What if you change your mind, what if you decide you really want a Vulcan wife after all…I don't know how I could live through that again."

"My people mate for life Christine, it is not within the nature of the bond to want another. I will never desire anyone but you." He reached out and tentatively took her hand. "Maybe it is I who should feel concern, what if you should decide you would be happier with a human husband?"

"Do you love me?"

"That is a difficult question to answer Christine."

She stiffened and her eyes grew cold as she pulled her hand away from his. "It is the only question that matters to me."

"I am…unaccustomed to quantifying my emotions. You ask me of love, but I know very little of what humans would call love. There is a way…"he paused anxiously taking a deep breath. "There is a way that I can show myself to you, completely… you could find the answer to your question."

"I don't understand?"

"I would open my mind to yours, allow you to touch my thoughts and feelings. You would know, without a doubt, that which is within me to give you."

"A mind meld?"

"Not just a surface meld, I would open myself to you… completely."

"Would you be able to…you know, see inside of me?"

"Only if you chose to allow it."

"I see." She sat silently for a few moments, then moved her hand back to his.

"Do it." She nodded gently. "Do it now."


	29. Chapter 29

"Damn it Riley, I'm trying to sleep." Eric Hansen wedged a pair of pillows against his ears to escape the incessant pounding invading his dreams.

"Riley!"

"It's not me Hanson, it's the door."

Grumbling Hanson slipped into a pair of jeans and stormed over to the door.

"Keep your pants on!" he admonished the unwelcome visitor as he fumbled for the lighting controls. "DeSalle if you forgot your keychip again I swear I'm gonna kick the shit out of you."

"Lieutenant Hanson."

"Admiral Kirk, sir." The young lieutenant stiffened as he ran his fingers through his tangled hair and furtively scanned through the detritus of DeSalle's no hold's barred poker match in search of his shirt. It was barely six hundred hours according to the chrono on the small table next to the sofa.

"May we come in?" Kirk asked. The tight set of the Admiral's jaw and the grave look of concern in his hazel

eyes made it clear that it was not a social call, and the request for admittance did not leave room for refusal.

Eric stepped back from the entryway, feeling a rush of panic as he realized that Kirk was accompanied by several of the ship's senior officers and a security team.

It could only mean one thing. He and Riley were on their way to the brig. Commander Spock had no doubt already filed charges against them. Conduct unbecoming was a given, with a dereliction of duty added for dumping the unconscious Commander at Christine's campsite.

"Look, Admiral Kirk, sir," his eyes darted around the room like a trapped animal, "I can explain."

Kirk gave Hanson a brief, but warm grin. "At ease Hanson, this isn't an inspection. I can't say my own quarters look much better."

"I can vouch for that." McCoy chimed in, giving Kirk a disapproving frown.

"I'm sorry about the hour, is Lt. Riley here?"

"Aye sir," Riley responded with a bleary yawn.

"Commander Spock appears to be missing."

"Missing sir?" Hanson responded as the anxiety he was feeling flared into full blown panic.

"He left the party at the lake shortly before the two of you, but it looks like he never made it back to our lodgings. We've tried his communicator, but so far he hasn't responded."

Hanson and Riley exchanged a quick glance. "We'd be glad to help any way that we can, sir."

"Did you see anything suspicious along the trail?"

"I was pretty out of it, sir." Riley offered sheepishly.

"And I was pretty busy just keeping him up and moving. Have they scanned for Vulcan biosigns?"

"Apparently not," Kirk sighed angrily. "The facilities here were designed for top level Fleet officials and diplomats; they jam all scanning frequencies for security."

"He looked pretty wasted when he left," Hanson offered hopefully, "he's probably just sleeping it off somewhere."

"Not if he didn't find some sort of shelter." Eric looked back to see Dr. McCoy entering the already crowded room.

"It wasn't that cold." Riley chimed in.

"Not for humans, but if he passed out outside…I'm worried Jim."

"I don't want to start a panic, I'm sure Lt Hanson is correct and he's just sleeping somewhere, I but I think a discrete search party might be in order."

"Riley and I will help."

"Thanks Hanson. Why don't we let you gentlemen get cleaned up and dressed. We'll meet in ten minutes in the main lobby downstairs."

…

"Damn it Bones, this is all my fault." Kirk tuned and offered the doctor a steadying hand.

"You can't blame yourself Jim," McCoy responded, gratefully accepting the proffered hand. "He said he was okay."

"He was drunk on his ass; I should have taken him back to the cabin myself. What was I thinking?" It was a rhetorical question of course, he knew exactly what he'd been thinking. He'd been thinking about impressing a busty young lieutenant who had, in fact, been young enough to be his daughter.

"None of us were thinking any too clearly last night. Hanson's right, he's probably holed up somewhere sleeping it off."

"I hope so Bones. If something's happened to him I'll never forgive myself."

"He's not dead Riley, stop saying that." Eric spotted Kirk and McCoy at the top of the rise.

"You heard what McCoy said, if he spent the night outside it could have killed him."

"We left him with Christine, she's a doctor, and she'd know what to do."

"Then where the fuck is he Eric? We're lookin' at a court martial here, maybe worse."

"We're gonna find him okay. Just keep it together Kevin."

Hanson whispered a silent prayer to any god taking calls, to keep Commander Spock alive until they could find him, and to keep Christine Chapel from finding out what he'd done.

…

Nyota studied the tricorder a hopeful smile slowly lighting her face. "Admiral I know we can't run any sort of scan from above, but what about from ground level? If his communicator is still operational I might be able to use a low level carrier signal to triangulate a position."

Still operational, the simple pronouncement took Kirk's thoughts in a grim direction. _No_, Kirk reassured himself, _you're going to find him, and it's going to be all right_. "It's worth a try. "Kirk nodded.

"I'm on it sir."

"Anything Mr Sulu?" Kirk asked as the last of the search team returned.

"Sorry sir."

"I've got something sir." Uhura's smile broadened. "I've got a fix on his communicator it's about ten minutes from here."

"Let's go."

…..

"Down here!"

Kirk scrambled down the brush covered embankment toward Dr McCoy.

"You've got him."

"No, just the communicator, but he was here." McCoy held out the small electronic device a small patch of torn blue denim still clinging tenaciously to the clip.

"Here, over here," Uhura called excitedly. "Look, see how the brush is all torn and matted up to the trail?" Nyota called excitedly. "I think he lost his footing up there and tumbled down here." She moved across to the other side of the small valley where the vegetation was also disturbed. "He would have been disoriented from the fall, and…aha…" she snatched a few strands of indigo thread from a low shrub with a triumphant smile, "He got himself back up the hill but on the other trail."

"Get everyone up to that trail, now." Kirk commanded sharply, his mood lightening at the first solid lead. "He's up there somewhere."

…


	30. Chapter 30

"Will it be painful?"

"No," he assured her gently as he brushed the tip of his index finger along her perfectly sculpted cheekbone. "There will be a slight sensation of pressure, and you may feel a bit disoriented for a few moments until the meld is fully established. I would hope you find the experience pleasant."

"And you won't be able to see my thoughts?"

"Only your surface thoughts; I will not proceed any further unless you choose to allow it. I will open myself to you, so that you may know my heart and mind."

"I still don't understand how we can be…'mated' if we've never joined our minds, the Vulcan bonding ritual requires a deep mind meld."

Spock raised a startled eyebrow, and then his eyes narrowed. "How is it that you know of the Vulcan bonding ritual?"

"I was young and in love," she sighed wistfully, "and I was a kickass researcher."

"Kickass?"

Christine gave an exasperated sigh. "However this plays out I'm getting you an English dictionary as soon as we get out of here."

"Perhaps the problem lies in your usage of English rather than in my receptive skills?"

"Seriously? You think this is a good time to pick a fight?"

"Agreed."

"You still haven't answered my question. If we've never shared a mind meld, how can you and I be 'mates'"?

"The intensity of…our…physical joining, it…it was a most profound experience for me. I believe it is possible that my control may have been compromised."

"So," she bristled, "you're saying this, thing, whatever it is, is something you didn't want?"

"It is not something I consciously sought…yet I find am unable to view it as an unfavorable outcome."

"I had no idea you were such a romantic Commander." She scowled, "I would make an 'agreeable mate', you find marrying me would not be an 'unfavorable outcome' you're really sweeping me off my feet here."

"I understand, you have taken offense at the lack of poetry in my words. The concept of expressing emotion in a… romantic fashion is completely alien to my people."

"I know, I just…let's just get this over with."

"I must say, I find your lack of enthusiasm not particularly conducive to romance."

"Right, because this is all my fault."

"I shall reiterate your earlier sentiment that this is hardly the time for us to be arguing Christine. I believe that it would be prudent for us to cease talking and move on to more precise communication."

"Okay, so how do we do this?"

"It is sufficient for the two of us to be in close physical proximity. I will touch your face to initiate the meld." He looked around the campsite for a moment then turned his eyes back to her. "I believe that returning to the sleeping bag might prove to expedite matters."

She responded with a dubious frown.

"It would facilitate the necessary closeness, and deter possible outside distractions and…"

"And what."

"It will be difficult for me to maintain the level of melding required… and to also regulate my body temperate ... and it is rather chilly."

Christine nodded tightly. "I'm a bit chilled myself. I agree, returning to the sleeping bag would be the most logical way to proceed. What? What is that look?"

"I beg forgiveness, it is such a rare occurrence to hear you use the word 'logical' without adding a mitigating tone."

"You're right; we definitely need to stop talking."

Christine rose and moved toward the sleeping bag. Bending over she adjusted the controls of the heating element in the pad, then pulled off her boots and scrambled inside.

Wordlessly Spock removed his own boots and moved in beside her before closing the seal on the bag.

"Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'm going to be."

"Very well," he moved his hand tentatively through the darkness searching for her face. Suddenly he felt her hand around his wrist, her grip like iron.

That's not my face." She said tartly as she moved the errant hand higher.

"Sorry. Now I need for you to relax. My mind to your mind…" he paused abruptly certain he'd heard a faint chuckle. "You find this humorous Christine?"

"No, not at all." Though the Vulcan's peevish tone seemed to have the affect of exacerbating her laughter rather than halting it.

"Sorry, I was just thinking about the last time?"

"The last time?"

"When Sargon put your consciousness in me."

"You found that humorous?"

"I was remembering that first moment…when our thoughts touched…the abject horror I saw running through your mind."

"Indeed, I had never experienced the mind of a human female before; it was…a most unexpected sensation."

"Spaghetti," she laughed again. "It reminded you of spaghetti."

"Just for a moment." He responded defensively, "I did not find the experience unpleasant."

"More flattery?"

"Perhaps we should return our attention to the matter at hand?"

He carefully moved his fingers to the psi points on her face.

"My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts our minds are one."

Christine felt herself suddenly enveloped in a cocoon of warmth and safely, then came a tide of sensations, thoughts and feelings which she immediately understood were not her own.

A strong wave, potent, heady, incredibly warm washed over her, touching her everywhere with wanton abandon. Christine's heart was racing and her body was suddenly engulfed in a sweet burning fire. _Aitlun__giv-tvi-rivak_ the tantalizing alien phrase moved through her consciousness with the carnal promise of a Deltan harem dancer. She felt her body flush with embarrassment as she gradually came to understood she was experiencing his physical desire for her.

"I did not think Vulcans entertained thoughts of that nature."

"I am Vulcan Christine, but I am also a male."

It was a most curious sensation; she was actually looking at herself, or at least a younger version of herself. It was impossible not to cringe at the sight, the outlandishly short blue uniform, the elaborately styled bleached blonde hair and heavy makeup. She was standing in the transporter room of the Enterprise speaking with Captain Kirk. His hand was resting lightly on her shoulder, his hazel eyes warm and welcoming.

"_Welcome aboard Ensign Chapel. May I introduce my First Officer Mr. Spock?"_

She watched in stunned fascination as the perky young woman extended a perfectly manicured hand and Christine realized that she was reliving this event through Spock's eyes. Her body trembled with a powerful mixture of arousal and shame.

"You…you wanted me then?"

"I was nearly overcome with a desire to throw you to the decking and engage in unspeakable terran sexual acts."

"What unspeakable acts?"

"I am Vulcan Christine, all terran sexual acts are unspeakable. It was a most unsettling experience. I had never, as you put it, 'entertained' such thoughts before."

"Never? Everyone has sexual thoughts at one time or another."

"It is a mortal transgression against the troth of constancy to the bondmate. It was the topic of a great many hours of meditation for some time after the event."

"So all terran sexual practices are 'unspeakable'…but you certainly didn't seem to mind when we engaged in them."

"I did not."

She felt gentle amusement, then a barrage of erogenous thoughts and vociferantly erotic images of the two of them, slowly undressing one another, kissing…touching… hands and lips roaming purposefully masterfully, arousing, enflaming, they were engaging in every imaginable sort of carnal congress, each act serving to spur them on to yet another coupling until Christine was certain that they would both die of pleasure.

"You are most certainly a male."

"I pleased you…in that way?"

"You pleased me in that way."

"I know that…the pleasing… it is deemed…of great importance by human females."

"Vulcan woman don't, well…deem that important?"

"I know nothing of Vulcan women, or what they would deem of import." He responded, and she felt his ironic amusement.

Without warning a new and very different sort of warmth suffused her consciousness. This was not the hot throbbing heat of his desire; it was something much more tender, effusive, sustaining. _Ashaya_ , the word brushed against her like a soft comforting caress. Christine turned it over in her mind carefully examining it.

It was the icy sweetness of strawberry ice cream caressing her tongue on a hot summer day. It was half frozen fingers wrapped around a stoneware mug filled with piping hot cocoa blanketed in a mountain of sweet melting marshmallows after hiking through the snow. It was the quiet tranquility of burrowing into a warm cocoon of her grandmother's handsewn quilts after a long day on call.

"Food analogies Christine?" she felt a faint ripple of amusement move across the surface of the meld, "why I am not surprised that you view the world through a haze of food?"

It was a sweet familiarity; she found threads of comfort, joy, then tenderness and affection woven through with respect and regard for her as an individual.

The images flowing through her now were far less vivid, they were softer, gentler. She saw herself working beside him in the lab, the mutual pleasure of work thoughtfully planned and skillfully executed. The feeling of awaking on a biobed , carefully warmed for Vulcan comfort, and hearing a familiar voice, so warm and reassuring. A bowl of hot plomeek soup, a plate of warm kreyla, the myriad small thoughtful gestures, performed so freely, with no though of reciprocation.

Kindness, consideration, appreciation, the deep valuing of another, she regarded them like the stones in a mosaic, each surrendering their individuality for the greater picture with _ashaya_ the sweet glue holding them together.

But she sensed something ominous stalking up towards the edge of her consciousness. This was something new, something dark, and something she sensed he did not wish to share and she felt his internal struggle to allow it to come forward.

She was watching herself once again, only this event was far more recent. She was in the club dancing with Eric Hanson, the multispectral lights pulsing obscenely in time to the primitive beat of the music. The Lieutenant's powerful hands were roving hungrily over the smooth emerald green silk; her hips swayed wantonly, oblivious to the scrutiny of their fellow dancers. She was raising her arms over her head; her hands reaching back to run her fingers through Eric's dark wavy hair. The movement provided a generous view of her white breasts, the hard rosy nipples coyly peeking out from the low neckline.

This emotion brought a terrifying new kind of heat, an angry, visceral inferno roaring up within her. _Dem-val_ the strange word twisted through her, a turbulent mix of dark thoughts and even darker feelings, tangled and difficult to analyze. It would be easy to say it was simple jealousy, but it was more insidious, and far more malevolent. It was a mindless hunger, malignant insatiable hunger, a soul searing need for possession, total unquestioned possession.

"It is the primordial fear of every Vulcan male, stretching back to the most ancient times, to be forced to face the burning alone."

"To endure the Pon Farr without a mate is death."

"The fear is not death Christine; it is the fear of the madness…the obscene dispossession of self. For a Vulcan, to be stripped of the intellect, the uncontrolled eclipse of rationality… it is a degradation which is beyond physical death. It is that which is never to be spoken, yet honor demands you understand that importunity surely to come.

"It would be easier for you, the Pon Farr, with a Vulcan wife?"

She felt a sense of puzzlement in response to her question.

"What you said…" she paused a moment as her mind wandered back to that day so long ago when she'd come to his cabin, hoping the news that they were en route to Vulcan would somehow ease the mystifying pain he was enduring.

"You said it would be illogical for us to protest against our natures…that the cultural chasm between us could not be breached."

She felt his bafflement quickly dissipate, replaced by a sense of wry amusement.

"You found that amusing?" A swell of anger struck out at him, despite her best efforts at shielding.

"It would appear you misunderstood the intent of my declaration. I was attempting to convey precisely the opposite sentiment."

"You wanted to… for us to…"

"Had you not informed me that we were bound for Vulcan I was prepared to ask you to accept me as...husband."

"You were proposing to me?"

"Indeed, perhaps a dictionary would be a good investment after all."

"But you still chose her…the Vulcan woman."

"You infer the involvement of choice based on your own cultural norms. Even now I can sense that you believe I judge you a less desirable mate for me, when in fact it is myself I would deem a less worthy mate for you.

"And yet, I find within myself the truth of the oneness between us. Do you not feel it as well?"

"Maybe…I'm just not sure."

"I know what I have within me to give you is not what a human man could give you, but if you accept me I would give all that is within me to you, without reservation."

A new sensation swirled around them, hot, ancient desert winds blowing carnelian red sands across Vulcan's Forge, reverent whispers echoing throughout countless millennia. _Tel__tor__t'zaled,_ sacred words, prefacing a primordial oath sworn in blood, a pledge which once sworn could never be foresworn.

Billions upon billions of threads woven together, forming a tapestry that stretched from the dawning of all time into the farthest reaches of eternity. Of course, she suddenly understood, the bonding would not simply join the two of them to each other; it would fuse them as one thread woven through that vibrant panorama, linking the ancients of the clan, her own ancestors with their own children and their children, in one perfect unbroken line.

"It is the oneness Christine."

"Are we bonded now?"

"I do not fully understand the nature of the connection between us, but it is not a complete bonding. If you do not choose to accept me as _adun_, a Vulcan healer would be needed to sever the connection between us."

"And if I accept you, how do we complete the bonding?"

"You would open yourself to me and I would create the marital bonding that will join us."

"Kind of like hooking up a bioscan monitor?"

"I believe even a Vulcan would blanch at the lack of romantic sentiment in that analogy Christine."

"What if I can't be a proper Vulcan wife?"

"I find the prospect of an 'improper' wife most intriguing. I can only tell you that I recognize you as my true mate. I do not say that our union will always be easy, you yourself have pointed out that human relationships are messy and complicated. I have no doubt that we will each find is necessary to make compromises. But despite that, I believe that if you look within yourself and can see the truth of our oneness then the only logical choice is to surrender ourselves unreservedly to that truth."

"So it's the 'logical' choice?"

"I believe that is what I said."

"So there's no emotion involved?"

"Logic does not preclude emotion Christine."

"I surrender to the logic."

Her joyous laughter echoed through his mind like the chiming of a Vulcan bell banner. Her mind opened to him, gradually like a sun warmed flower allowing him access to the sweet tangle of her thoughts, each feeling wonder and delight as their minds hungrily sought the other. Each found unconditional acceptance and completion. Past hurts and misunderstandings slipped away in a soft shower of mutual purpose and perfect understanding.

Threads of memory wove themselves one through the other; emotions tender and volatile found their place as the bond formed, now a tangible thing between them. Christine repeated the ancient vows, the timeless pledge of joining, the Vulcan words flowing from her tongue effortlessly as she affirmed the visceral truth of their oneness.

It was an almost physical pain for both of them as he reluctantly pulled his mind from hers.

"I can still feel you in my thoughts."

"It will take some time for you to be accustomed to the bondlink. It will become less intrusive as we become acclimated to it."

"Will we be able to communicate telepathically?"

"For the most part that would only be possible when we are in direct physical contact with one another. Otherwise it will be simply a very deep awareness of one another."

"So what do we do now?"

"I do not know Christine. We are newly married, alone in a sleeping bag. Perhaps you have some ideas?"

"Oh I've got some ideas mister."

"Perhaps a game of chess?"

"Oh I'll be making some moves okay."

"Indeed, perhaps I will have some moves of my own."

"Can you help me get my sweater off?"

He slipped his fingers underneath the garment and slowly inched it up her body then up over her arms, taking advantage of her position to nuzzle her warm breasts.

"I am prepared to impregnate you immediately if you desire."

"That's very …thoughtful, but I think we can hold off on that for the moment."

"As you wish."

"This has been one heck of a shore leave. Gods, what do you think Leonard will say when he finds out?"

"I do not wish to think of Dr. McCoy at this moment Christine." He blazed a trail of wet kisses down her ribcage, leaving no doubts where the path would end.

"Agreed."


	31. Chapter 31

Kirk dropped himself to the ground, as fatigue claimed victory over the growing sense of despair that had been driving him. He leaned back against a tall cedar tree allowing himself a few moments respite from the dark thoughts that were reasserting themselves. They'd been searching for over two hours and still further sign of him.

"Time" he called out to no one in particular as he drained the last of the hot coffee from his thermpak.

"Eight hundred fifty five hours sir," Hansen responded.

"Okay people," he called out to the rest of his team and he sank to the ground. "Let's take break and regroup. Five minutes."

McCoy eased down beside him, his face drawn and the sparkle gone from his blue eyes. "It's time to call in more help Jim."

"We're going to find him Bones!" Kirk snapped back angrily.

"I didn't say we're not gonna find him. But Jim," McCoy leaned in lowering his voice, "he's been out here for eight hours, possibly injured maybe unconscious. I know you don't want to hear this, but we may be running out of time."

"You're right, I don't want to hear it," Kirk sighed, "Mr. Sulu?"

[Soft Break]"Sir!"

"Dr McCoy believes it's time to call in more help, and I'm inclined to concur, your thoughts?"

"Given the number of variables, and the amount of time that's passed, I would feel more confident with a larger, more systematic search effort. Shall I comm for more search teams sir?"

"Call for four teams, and make sure each teams has a medtech and a thermal kit. I would still…I would appreciate maintaining a certain level of discretion with this operation, Mr Sulu."

"Understood Sir."

"Uhura, didn't you mention a transporter pad somewhere in this area?"

"Yes sir, it's about fifteen minutes from here."

"Give Sulu the coordinates and have them start beaming the additional search teams to that pad. We'll set up a central point there and work out a search pattern."

"Admiral, our campsite is just a few minutes from the transporter pad. Perhaps that would make a good base of operations?"

"Thanks Uhura, that sounds like a great idea. Mr. Sulu, have the search teams meet us at Uhura's campsite."

"Okay let's move out."

Kirk wearily hoisted himself to his feet, then turned and offered McCoy a hand up which the doctor gratefully accepted.

"We're gonna find him Jim," McCoy said confidently.

"We have to Bones…we have to."

The two men traveled the short distance in silence, allowing Riley and Hanson to lead the way.

"What if he's not there Eric?"

"Even a Vulcan can't get through the security force field without the passcode. He's got to be there."

"What if he's…."Riley swallowed hard, then whispered, "what if he's dead?"

"He's not dead Kevin. Don't even think that!"

"But McCoy said…"

"He's with Christine, she's a doctor, she'd take care of him."

"If she found him Eric, then why the hell hasn't she called for help?"

It was a good question, and one that Hanson was not willing to surrender to at the moment. The doctor who'd patched up Christine's broken hand had discharged her with a hypospray for pain and something to help her sleep. What if she had been dozing soundly, unaware of the unconscious Vulcan Commander sinking deeper into hypothermia?

No! He railed against the gut wrenching anxiety. Commander Spock was alive, he had to be. This moronic attempt to get back at Christine Chapel was spiraling out of control and he had to focus and get things back on track. It was pointless agonizing now, in a few moments they would be at the campsite and everything would come to a head.

"Just a few more minutes sir." Lt Commander Uhura called back softly.

Kirk didn't miss the soft edge of concern that touched her normally melodic voice. Just a few days ago he'd playfully chided her for humming on the bridge. They'd been laughing, except for Spock of course who'd merely raised an exasperated eyebrow, what Bones referred to as the "Vulcan eye roll".

Spock had been uncharacteristically distracted during the exchange, though at the time he'd barely noticed. The business with Chapel had obviously thrown the Vulcan for a loop, yet his First Officer, his friend, hadn't seen fit to share his turmoil. Why? He'd never hesitated to share his thoughts…and feelings with Spock.

"_When I feel friendship for you Jim, I'm ashamed."_ The memory of those words struck him like a fist in the gut. Seven years ago, under the influence of an alien virus, it had been the only time the Vulcan had acknowledged a reciprocation of the connection between the two of them. The pleasure of that revelation had been tinged with the understanding that the feelings between them were a source of pain for Spock. Damn Vulcans, nothing could ever be simple.

Two sentences, two goddamned sentences, the succinct missive meant to sever everything that connected them. _"I am returning to Vulcan to pursue the rite of__Kohlinar. It has been an honor serving under you."_ The affront had been fanned to full fledged furor after he looked up the strange term in the Vulcan Language database. He unconsciously rubbed his right hand, then grimaced at the spidery white scars across his knuckles, a permanent reminder of his unbridled anger as he'd put his fist through the computer screen.

He'd lost Spock, Bones, his ship. In exchange he had a job where the greatest danger he'd faced was the prospect of being bored to death, and a marriage to a ruthlessly driven woman who had seen him as a stepping stone to bigger and better things. Then V'ger had come blazing a trail of death and destruction across endless galaxies, and in the blink of an eye he had his whole life back.

But not quite all of it, he realized. The meld with V'ger had left Spock more open, more vulnerable. _"This simple feeling…"_ Kirk recalled how Spock had taken his hand; of course he would have felt it, Kirk realized morosely, the anger. He'd been so angry with Spock for leaving, for wanting to erase their friendship as if it had meant nothing.

He'd never stopped for a moment to consider why the Vulcan would have felt the need to purge those emotions, to seek some respite from the torment of trying to live between two worlds. He hadn't been trying to erase James Kirk, he'd been attempting to erase his own humanity.

"_But you didn't even try to understand his__motivation_. _No"_ Kirk mused bitterly, "_you only thought of yourself, of the loss to you_." Another loss amid so many, so many failed relationships; Lori, Janice Lester, Carol…David a son he didn't even know. Bones was right, he had no business giving relationship advice to anyone.

"_We're going to find him"_, Kirk told himself with assurance, _"and I'm going to set things right between us."_

"I've got a forcefield up ahead." Hansen called back. "And eight members of the security team coming in this direction."

"There's a control panel, I just need to find it and shut it off." Uhura responded as she scurried up to Hansen and Riley.

"Over there." She said, indicated a small stand of saplings.

"What's that?" Sulu stopped, holding out a hand for silence.

Kirk stiffened, and the sound of a muffled, almost animalistic groan came from beyond the perimeter of bushes.

"Over there!" Kirk waved, moving quickly in the direction of the sound, only to be repelled by the forcefield.

"I need a minute to shut it down sir."

Another, moan this one deeper and far more intense cut through the quiet morning, followed by a tortured string of unintelligible shouting.

"Vulcan," Uhrua shot back to the unspoken question on the Admiral's face as her deft fingers entered the passcode and they heard the soft whine of the powerdown sequence of the forcefield.

"He's alive," Kirk made no effort to choke back the buoyant euphoric relief as the team poured into the campsite all eyes focused on the sleeping bag near the fire. Hansen too, could not contain the gasp as the excruciating knot of fear in is stomach loosened.

In a frenzied rush of adrenaline Kirk and McCoy pushed past Hansen and Riley, frantically ripping open the magnetic fasteners of the quilted bag, then jumped back in stunned disbelief.

"What in the hell are you doing?" McCoy shouted as the naked Vulcan scrambled protectively in front of a beet red faced Christine Chapel.

"I shall entertain that as a rhetorical question doctor." The Vulcan responded with surprising equanimity given the circumstances. He raised an imperious eyebrow to Jim Kirk as he snatched the corner of the sleeping bag from the Admiral's trembling hand and wrapped it around Christine and himself.

"We…we thought you were…" McCoy stammered. "We heard…moaning."

"Indeed." He responded coolly.

"You didn't make it back to the cabin last night." Kirk added, his face as red as Chapel's and his voice shaking.

"I was…" his turned his eyes to Christine and his voice softened, "otherwise occupied."

"I… yes I see that now."

"Well." Chapel said as she pulled her sweater over her head, "now that the mood has effectively passed, who wants some coffee?"

Hansen watched guiltily as the dark haired doctor slipped out of the sleeping bag. His sense of relief that his moronic prank hadn't killed a senior officer was now being overshadowed by the discomfiting image of Christine Chapel's luscious body, with the Vulcan behind her, his large verdigris hands cupping her milky white breasts as he thrust again and …No! He closed his eyes tightly against the memory, but to no avail. He was certain the image must be seared into his retina.

"Can you get some wood for the fire?" she asked sweetly as she tossed Spock his jeans.

"It will be a few minutes," he whispered softly, "it would appear the 'mood' has not so effectively passed for myself as is has for you."

"I'll get the wood." Hansen offered anxious for something to occupy his shaking hands.

"Thanks I'll get some coffee going." Eric relaxed a bit at her easy smile. Whatever had happened here, he felt certain that she was unaware of his part in the sequence of events.

Spock struggled into his jeans, grateful that a few moments later he was able to zip them closed. He slid out of the sleeping bag shivering for a moment as the cool air hit is bare chest, then pulled on the dark woolen sweater and his boots.

"I've….I've got your communicator." McCoy offered weakly.

Rising to his feet in a lithe, almost feline movement, he regarded the doctor sternly for a moment before accepting the proffered communicator.

"You're welcome, you big green…"

"Bones," Kirk reached out grabbling McCoy's shoulder.

"We're glad you're okay."

"Gratifying to know, but if I might say so I am finding your appearance here most…"

"Unexpected?" McCoy interrupted with a perfect imitation of the Vulcan's trademark raised eyebrow.

"I was going to say unwelcome." Spock responded crisply as he clipped the communicator to his jeans and brushed his fingers through his rumpled hair.

"Girl," Nyota shook her head. "That is one fine hunk of Vulcan love machine you got yourself there. You really didn't do him justice."

Christine covered her mouth attempting to hide the sappy smile she was certain was plastered across her face. "There are some mugs under that bench."

"I'll be expecting all the juicy details when we get back to the ship."

Christine gave Nyota an exasperated eye roll, knowing full well that regardless of her best intentions it was pointless trying to keep anything from her friend.

"I've got some eggs I can cook if anyone is hungry?" Christine offered as she set out some cream and sugar packets beside the mugs on the small camp table.

"That will not be necessary my wife, our guests will be leaving as soon as they have consumed their coffee."

"I know the bum's rush when I see it you ungrateful… wait…wife? Did I just hear you say wife."

"Indeed you did doctor, your manners may be deplorable, but your hearing appears to be well within Starfleet parameters. I am uncertain of the precise meaning of the phrase "bum's rush", but if it is an indication that you believe my desire for your company at this time is nonexistent then you are most perceptive."

"Well you green blooded…"

"Bones!" Kirk laughed, "We'll finish our coffee and let your return to your… honeymoon Mr. Spock." A puzzled look crossed the Admiral's face. "So," he lowered his voice, "I'm assuming that this means our trip to Vulcan is…cancelled."

"Yes, " Spock sighed as the full impact Kirk's question became clear to him. "I will need to contact my father upon returning to the ship. I can not imagine that he will be pleased."

"Who knows, maybe he'll surprise you."

"I would estimate the odds that he will not express displeasure with this turn of events to be less that one one hundred thousandth of one percent."

"Can we talk for a minute?" Kirk said, nodding toward a more secluded area behind the woodpile.

"Of course," Spock nodded.

Eric Hansen returned his empty cup to Christine. "So, you're married?"

"Sort of… I guess… I suppose we'll need to work the legal parts out when we get back to the ship. Look…I'm sorry if I lead you on in any way. You're a great guy Eric, I really do mean that."

Hansen regarded Christine for a moment, the sweet happy smile on her face suddenly making him feel lighthearted and happy for her. Somehow, through some unfathomable twist of fate, his drunken attempt at vengeance had backfired miserably and sent the woman of his dreams into the arms of another man. He smiled at the irony of it all, then leaned in and planted a light kiss on her cheek.

"I hope the two of you will be happy, I mean it Chris. Let's see if we can roust these people out of here so you two can get back to your honeymoon."

"Thanks Eric." Christine looked around the campsite to find her new husband nowhere in sight, though she could sense his presence nearby, and could sense a number of other most delightful things through their new bond as well.

"So," Kirk shifted uncomfortably, "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry for not making more of an effort to understand why you left the way that you did."

"There is no offense where none is taken Jim."

"But I want you to know that I value our friendship."

"I know that Jim."

"It was petty and selfish of me to be angry with you."

"Yes Jim."

"So you understand?"

"I do."

"You're not just saying that because you think it's what I want to hear?"

"May I be honest with you?"

"Of course Spock."

"At this moment Jim, I believe I would tell you that Surak is the Tooth Fairy if it would get you to take McCoy and others and leave me alone with Christine."

"Understood," Kirk laughed.

"There are no words that can express the value I place on your friendship. I too long for the closeness we shared in the past… and I am confident that we will recapture that…but today…"

"Gotcha. We'll leave you two in peace to finish your honeymoon."

"That would be greatly appreciated."

"You know what's really ironic? Back on the first tour, I used to picture you and Chapel together."

"Indeed?"

"Now I'll probably need years of psychotherapy to get rid of the picture of you and Chapel together."

"Ah," the Vulcan nodded indulgently, "You are engaging the human practice of using humor to deflect your discomfort at viewing Christine and myself engaging in coitus."

"I'm not joking… and frankly my friend, hearing you say it out loud is actually more traumatic that seeing it."

"Then, in the interest of sparing you further psychological trauma, I would suggest you make haste with your departure."

Kirk realized with a surprised grin that Spock had been slowly moving them back to the campsite throughout their conversation.

"It appears I've overstayed my welcome." Kirk laughed.

"It would appear that way Admiral."

"Okay people, let's move out and let our newlyweds have some privacy."

There was a final round of congratulations and goodbyes, and a highly illogical terran custom called 'kissing the bride' which Spock decided he most certainly did not care for at all, but finally Spock and Christine were alone.

"I don't guess we'll need to send out wedding announcements." Christine remarked as she added some logs to the fire.

"Agreed, Miss Uhura was on her communicator with Lt Commander Rand as soon as she left here."

"The whole crew will know by lunchtime. We should probably comm our families when we get back to the ship. My mother will expect us to have some sort of ceremony, if that's okay with you?"

"I will be pleased to participate in any formalization ritual that is customary for your people."

"Well and I'm sure your parents would like a ceremony on Vulcan as well."

"That…there may be a problem." He led her to the small wooden bench and sat, drawing her down close beside him. "Before we left the ship, I sent Sarek a message agreeing to be bonded to a female chosen by my grandmother."

"You have another mate?"

"No Christine, you are my wife. I will contact my father upon our return to the ship and inform him that I will not be able to enter into the bonding. I believe my father will be displeased. But that is a subject for later my wife. For now let us engage ourselves in more pleasant pursuits."


	32. Epilogue

Epilogue

Amanda Grayson settled herself at the small table in the rose garden and poured two cups of Vulcan t'ea. The incipient tingling of the past hour had now blossomed into full blown sexual heat, assuring her that her bondmate was growing near. The soft fluttering sound of an approaching aircar confirmed Sarek's arrival.

She rose to greet him as he strode across the carnelian colored sand toward the shady pergola, his deep plum robes trailing softly behind him like the sails of a frigate in the hot afternoon breeze. Sarek held out two fingers in the traditional gesture and she responded in kind brushing her fingers lightly against his.

"We are quite alone _adun_ I have dismissed the staff for the day."

The faintest trace of a smiled warmed his weathered features as he pulled the slender woman into a long deep kiss.

"I find the prospect of our mutual solitude most agreeable my wife."

"I can prepare a light meal for us if you are hungry?"

"I am hungry my wife, though I do not believe my appetite would be sated by anything in the kitchen."

"I see." She responded, her blue eyes sparkling with delight. "The council negotiations went as expected?"

"Indeed, the influence of those who would have Vulcan withdraw from the Federation grows weaker." Sarek took a sip of tea, enjoying the slightly bitter taste. "Your roses appear to prosper."

"It seems the fertilizer Savvik brought on her visit has encouraged them to bloom."

"I almost forgot my wife, I have news from our son."

"Spock?"

"Do we have another son of whom I am unaware?"

"What news?"

"Spock has agreed to a new bonding. He has requested that we see to the arrangements."

Amanda made no effort to hide the disapproval in her frown. "I am…surprised that he would agree to another arranged marriage after…that bitch."

"Aduana," Sarek responded, stunned by his demure wife's invective.

"I should never have allowed you to talk me into the bonding with T'Pring."

"Amanda, you know the bonding is the way of our people. Spock knows the danger he would face in remaining unbonded, and he understands his duty to provide an heir."

"I'm sorry Sarek, but I look at what our marriage has meant to me…what you mean to me. Don't raise your eyebrow like that at me. Am I so wrong to want what we've shared for our son? And what about me… you expect me to welcome some stranger into this house as my daughter?"

"Dr. Chapel is hardly a stranger Amanda, you have welcomed her into our home any number of times when she studied on Vulcan."

"Christine? You've arranged for Spock to bond with Christine?"

"It was actually T'Pau who suggested it but I find I concur, it is the only logical choice."

"But what if she doesn't accept his proposal?"

"I would compute the odds of her refusing him at approximately point oh oh seven twenty five."

"So there is still a chance she will say no."

"She is a human woman in love my wife, but our son is at times thickheaded, and lacking my diplomatic skills. It is possible he could present his cause to her in insensitive or oafish manner."

"As I recall your first proposal was hardly a major work of diplomacy. It sounded like you were asking me to open a business with you."

"A skilled diplomat learns from his mistakes. As I recall, your reaction to my second proposal was most enthusiastic."

A warm smile warmed her gently lined face. "The second proposal was considerably more attractive."

"I find my hunger has grown more pronounced my wife."

"I have some plomeek soup and t'kith bread."

"That is not precisely the feast I had in mind t'hy'la."

"What is it then that you have in mind adun? If you would like to dine in town I can change?"

He reached across the small table and brushed a silvery strand of hair back from her cheek and she shivered at the delicious flood of pure desire he sent her as his touch opened the bond between them.

"Everything I want is right here my wife," he whispered tenderly then captured her soft lips in a hungry kiss.


End file.
